


A Christmas Curse

by lawand_disorder



Category: Good Witch (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawand_disorder/pseuds/lawand_disorder
Summary: Set early season 3. Sam and Cassie are navigating the beginning of their romantic relationship and are approaching their first Christmas together. But when Cassie opens a box containing Christmas ornaments she picked up from an estate sale, it is going to shake their relationship to the very core. Will they even make it to their first Christmas? COMPLETE.
Relationships: Cassie Nightingale/Sam Radford
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again. Yep, another new fic from me, whilst I still haven't finished my existing ones (sorry, my muse basically died sometime in late November and hasn't come back). This fic started life sometime in late October and I've been toying with actually publishing it for a while. It is still rough & ready and needs some work, but it's nearly Christmas and we're still in a pandemic so I thought "what the heck" and decided to post it. It is complete so you won't need to wait 300 years for me to finish this one!
> 
> Massive, massive thanks go to xfphilewho has patiently put up with moaning about this fic for months and who has done a stellar job on making this make sense re: timelines etc. and for being in my corner whilst I stabbed this fic until it surrendered. If you've been living under a rock and haven't already read them, you must check out her Good Witch fics - I promise you won't regret it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. I did have fun writing it (back before I started hating it!) so I hope it at least gives you some distraction from this dumpster fire of a year.
> 
> Merry Christmas! :)

**Part 1**

_They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder._

_And they’re not wrong._

_But if Sam Radford found out who this mysterious “they” were, well, he was going to ask Cassie to curse them, and all of their descendants, regardless of whether or not it was the season of goodwill to all men._

_Neither Cassie nor Sam needed any help in regards to their hearts, or their fondness for each other. But sometimes a little shove from fate, or was it magic, was necessary to push two hearts in the right direction._

_*_

**_13 Days Earlier_ **

Cassie hummed along with the Christmas tune playing softly on the radio as she went into the back of the shop. The boxes she had picked up from a local estate sale had been delivered to the Bell, Book, and Candle just before Thanksgiving, and Cassie had been dying to open them. She hadn’t always loved Christmas, but Jake had changed her mind about it. Even after his death, she had continued to make Christmas special, gathering Brandon, Tara, and Lori home from wherever they’d been to celebrate with her, Grace, and George at Grey House. There was always something going on in Middleton, too. Maybe they didn’t go as all out for Christmas as they did at Halloween, but it was still pretty spectacular. Even Abigail, who was not known for her holiday cheer, had placed her order for mistletoe for her flower shop back in late September. It seemed like all of Middleton was ready to get into the festive spirit, especially now that Halloween and Thanksgiving had passed.

This Christmas would be special for Cassie: it would be the first one since Jake died that she wouldn’t be spending the holiday as a single woman. She hadn’t really minded, because she hadn’t been in any kind of rush to fall in love again after losing Jake. He had been the love of her life and lightning didn’t strike the same heart twice. She was beginning to think she might have been wrong about that, though.  
  
It was still pretty early days for her and Sam, but she was a little afraid that she was falling in love with him. She was even more afraid that her feelings were reciprocated. Not that either of them was close to admitting that - well, not to each other, at least.

Neither of them had been wanting much less expecting to fall in love again. And if she had been resistant to opening her heart again after losing Jake, well Sam…that was a different story altogether. She knew that falling in love had been the last thing on his mind when he had moved to Middleton (having met Linda, Cassie honestly couldn’t blame him), which had only made his impromptu, impulsive kiss out at lake house all the more surprising. And Cassie Nightingale wasn’t a woman you could surprise easily.

If she was honest, she was a little afraid of losing what they already had. In the time since he had moved to Middleton, Sam had become her best friend, confidante and sounding board. She knew that she was the same for him. She didn’t want to jeopardise that friendship, not after the way her relationship with Ryan had disintegrated. In her heart, she knew that was she shared with Sam was very different but she was still determined to keep things light and easy until they figured this out. Unlike with Ryan, she knew that if she changed her mind about the relationship, Sam would respect that and take a step back. She didn’t think she wanted him too, though.

Cassie bent to lift one of the boxes, her jeans feeling a little tighter than normal after the feast she had put away on Thanksgiving. It was heavier than she had expected and she nearly dropped it onto a free table near the back of the shop, a table that had previously been holding tasteful Halloween decorations and fall-themed candles. She brushed dust from the knees of her jeans and had barely starting opening the box when she sensed a customer come in.

The shop became so busy with post-holiday shoppers that Cassie had to abandon unpacking the boxes until later. When a particularly nosy customer (and no, it wasn’t Martha Tinsdale), demanded to know the prices of some items Cassie rarely glanced at herself, she decided to leave the unpacking for another occasion. At least she knew that when she did put them up for sale, her customers would be interested in purchasing them. When she left the Bell, Book, and Candle at closing time, Cassie felt like she had put in a decent day’s work, but she still wished there’d been time to put up the decorations.

But even Merriwicks couldn’t make wishes come true.

* * *

It smelled great when Cassie returned to Grey House. She stepped into the kitchen and took a satisfied inhale of the scents developing there, pleased to see Sam being instructed by Stephanie in some culinary task. He glanced up at her and gave her a grin and a wink that provoked a little rush of slightly-flustered happiness in her belly, especially given that somehow, her neighbour-slash-boyfriend managed to look deliciously handsome despite wearing one of her kitchen aprons.

“What’s happening here?” she asked, taking in the hive of activity around her and feeling a little relief at the distraction from Sam and what he was coming to mean to her. She was usually the one who took care of the cooking at Grey House, and she was starting to feel a bit like a spare part in her own kitchen.  
  
“I had so many leftovers at The Bistro that I thought I’d bring them here and help feed your guests,” Stephanie replied cheerfully. And it was true that Grey House had been fully booked over Thanksgiving with friends, family, and guests alike.  
  
Cassie smiled back and offered, “What can I do to help?” Although she was an excellent cook in her own right, she was more than happy to let Stephanie take the reins.

As happy as Cassie could be, propped up with a good book and a cup of herbal tea, she also enjoyed being part of this loud, loving, found family of hers. Throughout her ups and downs, Middleton had always felt like home to her in a way she couldn’t imagine anywhere else ever could. And it had been fun watching the town cast its spell over Sam, too.  
  
“I didn’t realise somebody as sweet as Stephanie could also be such a harsh taskmaster,” he observed, stepping up behind her once his role in the dinner prep was finished and resting a hand lightly on her waist.  
  
Cassie shivered just a little as Sam’s breath tickled the strands of dark hair near her ear. She leaned back into his body, enjoying the warm, solid feeling of his presence.

  
Sometimes the holidays made her feel so lonely and had her missing Jake so acutely that it hurt, but Sam being here, being _with her_ , had made things easier, even before they started dating. But things were so new between them that she wasn’t ready to be quite as demonstrative in front of people as Sam was, even though she was honest enough to admit that her feelings for him were steadily growing and deepening. She knew it was hard for Grace to see her with another man, especially since Cassie hadn’t been in a real relationship since Jake had died. She didn’t count Ryan, because they had never actually been _together_ but she had well aware of her daughter’s unease with the whole situation. At least she liked Sam, which was something her mother was more than grateful for.

So, as much as Cassie wanted to lean into Sam’s embrace and just let him hold her the way he so clearly wanted to, or give in to her deepening feelings, turn to press her mouth to his, and let themselves get lost in the sweet, hot kiss they were both yearning for, she refrained. All in good time, she told herself. The best things in life were worth waiting for, after all.

Had she truly understood right then how long it would be before she got to have that deep, hot, sweet kiss with him, she might have taken the risk. Instead, she helped her friends and family carry the plates of food into the dining area, idly thinking that tomorrow maybe she would wear something looser than those tight black jeans.

* * *

Sam tried to tamp down his frustration when Cassie once again pulled back from him in the face of his not-awfully-well-hidden longing for some sort of physical intimacy. He would be content to just to hold her, to just feel her in his arms. It wasn’t like he was trying to ravish her, or push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with he just…he just wanted to make the best of the moment they had together. Of course he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity for more kissing and cuddling (or perhaps more), but he wanted to continue to get to know her better too, and vice versa.

But it seemed like every time they were in a position to do either of those things, it was always followed by Cassie giving in to her fears, and Sam still wasn’t entirely sure what it was she was afraid of. The end results always seemed to be that she was aloof or reserved with him, which frustrated him because she could be so warm and sweet with him, but he knew that as close as they had gotten, she was still holding so much of herself back from him.

He desperately hoped it was because she was unsure about moving on into her first real relationship since her husband’s death, rather than anything he had said or done and he was trying to take things at her pace and keep his promise of ‘no pressure’, but sometimes it was hard to keep control of his impulses. He was human after all.

If their children weren’t always around, well, it would be that much harder for him to keep his hands off her. He had his suspicions that a passionate, sensual woman existed behind the façade that Cassie Nightingale seemed to be presenting to him, and the rest of her acquaintances. He loved Nick, and already adored Grace, but sometimes he swore they had an in-built alarm system that went off whenever he and Cassie had a moment of peace together. As frustrating as their frequent interruptions were, Sam was also reluctantly grateful because he was still wary of pushing Cassie too far. They were still trying to keep things light and easy (which weren’t words you’d find if you looked up Doctor Samuel Radford in the dictionary), so he suspected that Cassie wasn’t ready for the realisation that because of her, the man who had sworn off women, let alone a serious relationships, after his tumultuous marriage and divorce, was now a stranger to him.

No, he wasn’t in love with her, but there was the distinct possibility that maybe, somewhere not too far down the road…

Well, stranger things had happened, hadn’t they? He was now a proud and happy resident of a small town, and who could have seen that coming?

So it wasn’t such a surprise that his heart was having other ideas about the business of falling in love again.

And that realization didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

* * *

After dinner, Cassie walked Sam back to his house, both of them laden with more cartons of leftover food. Nick had slipped away as soon as the table was cleared, and was now probably engrossed in a video game. Sam had let him off the clean-up duty; Nick had behaved like a model son over Thanksgiving despite not being able to see his mother, so he was being cut some slack, for now at least.  
  
“I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with all this food, Cassie. Nick eats like I’ve been starving him, but even he has his limits.”  
  
“Well, we’re definitely not going to eat it. My jeans are already too tight.”  
  
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed.” Sam grinned, holding the front door open for her and, seeing as she’d been the one to bring it up, checking to see what she was referring to. After his fairly thorough inspection, he couldn’t see that anything was wrong. In fact, the very opposite.  
  
Cassie cleared her throat, bringing Sam back to reality. He at least had the good grace to blush. It was so much easier to be playful and flirtatious with him when she knew they didn’t have an audience.  
  
“I need to get back,” she said, once they’d settled the containers of perishable food into the fridge. “I’ve got a million and one things to do for the shop.”  
  
Sam tried not to let his disappointment show. Their moments alone were rare enough as they were and now she was rushing off again. But then he remembered all the times he had been called away on medical emergencies throughout his working life, it was bound to happen when Cassie was hoping to spend time with him, too. It didn’t seem fair to protest that she was putting her work ahead of him, so he swallowed it down.  
  
“Don’t work too hard,” he told her, and pulled her into his arms for a brief hug. She pressed her lips to his cheek, before gently disentangling herself from his embrace. He had a dangerous effect on her, and it only became stronger the closer she was to him. There would be time to figure that out later, she hoped.  
  
Sam bid Cassie goodnight, secretly hoping she might come back to him. Just sitting on his couch and watching an old black and white movie with her would be enough for him. There was still so much he wanted to learn about her, even things as simple but as vital as which movies she loved and which ones she wouldn’t even sit through.

He let her go though, he had faith that she would come back to him. Although he could sense her hesitation, and yes her fear, at the deepening bond between them, he felt that she was trying her best to give them a fair shot. So he’d wait. He might not be patient about it, but still he would wait.

But, if he had known just how long that would take, he might have followed her out to the door and persuaded her to stay.

* * *

Cassie had a vague sense of unease when she unlocked the door to the Bell, Book, and Candle the following morning. She checked around but nothing seemed disturbed or out of place; everything was as she had left it the day before when she’d closed up. Maybe a week of eating rich food at every mealtime was upsetting her system. She’d stick to tea and her favourite soup from the Bistro today.  
  
She carried her purse and her take-out cup of tea out to the back of the shop with her. She had another hour before the shop opened, so she was determined to use that time to go through her new stock. It would give her a chance to decide what she wanted to put up for sale, and what she could use to decorate her shop.  
  
She slit the packing tape on one of the boxes with a sharp knife, almost gasping in delight at the gorgeous arrangement of tree ornaments and baubles. When she had attended the estate sale at the beginning of November, she had bid on the whole collection rather than the arduous process of every item being considered separately. It meant that she had not known exactly what all her purchases were, which in turn meant the unpacking process was going to be even more interesting.  
  
On her hands and knees, Cassie separated the contents of the first box into pieces she wanted to put out for sale, and pieces she wanted as decorations for here or for Grey House. She put aside a very fine carved sculpture of a stag for Sam. She wasn’t quite sure how far his Christmas spirit stretched, but it seemed like a gift he might appreciate.  
  
Once she had finished pricing up the items she would be selling, arranging them in pretty wicker baskets in the shop, Cassie glanced at her watch. She had just about enough time to go through another box before she had to open for business. She chose the smallest, but heaviest of the cartons. As she cut through the packing tape on this box, a plume of dust was released into the air. She coughed, covering her mouth with her sleeve. Gingerly, she peeled back the cardboard lid and looked inside. Charmed, she took out a beautifully preserved nativity set. She thought it might look lovely as part of the window display. Underneath it was a small trinket box, engraved with holly and ivy leaves and polished so it shone with a pearly glow. Cassie hadn’t remembered seeing it at the estate sale, but the owner had kept so many pieces; some of it junk and some it priceless antique and anywhere in between, that it had been impossible to keep track of it all. With that sense of foreboding creeping in again, Cassie took the lid off the box. She had a millisecond to be grateful that she was already kneeling on the floor before she fainted.

* * *

Sam was on his way to his practice when the take-out cup of coffee he’d picked up from the Bistro all but flew out of his hand. He cursed, but was grateful that the hot liquid hadn’t scalded him or splashed up onto his pants. He looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. There didn’t seem to be any explanation for it; he hadn’t tripped and the lid had definitely been securely on the coffee cup - he had watched Stephanie fix it on whilst they’d chatted. He picked up the cup and threw into the nearby trash can; he’d make another in his office instead.  
  
His busy roster of patients at the practice distracted Sam from the strange coffee incident, and he had forgotten about it by mid-morning when Martha Tinsdale came bounding into the waiting room unannounced. If she was already trying to rope him into Christmas activities he would...well, he would probably go along with whatever she asked but he liked the quiet life. Arguing with Martha was worse than arguing with his teenage son.  
  
“I don’t suppose you know why Cassie hasn’t opened the Bell, Book, and Candle yet, do you?” She asked without as much as a ‘good morning Sam’.  
  
Sam frowned. Cassie had told him when they parted that she had lots to do concerning the shop, so he couldn’t understand why she had chosen not to open it. She had remarked recently that the lead up to Christmas was one of her very busiest periods.  
  
“That’s strange, when I saw her last night she didn’t say anything about the shop being closed today.”  
  
“Well, I stopped by promptly at nine, and then again just before ten and it’s still closed up. This is so unlike Cassie.”  
  
Martha seemed more peeved that the shop wasn’t open than anything else, but Sam couldn’t disagree with her. This _was_ so unlike Cassie.  
  
“I’ll call her,” He said, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and dialling her number. As soon as he had pressed the device to his ear, Martha was making a ‘well?’ gesture.  
  
After half a dozen or so rings, the phone switched to Cassie’s voicemail.  
  
“Uh hi Cassie, it’s Sam. Martha’s just come in to see me; she said the shop isn’t open yet. I hope everything is okay, please call me back.”  
  
“Hmm!” Martha exhaled. “Well, when you do get hold of her, tell her I might consider shopping elsewhere for my Christmas gifts this year.”  
  
She stalked back out of the practice again, but deep down she was just as concerned as Sam. Cassie Nightingale was the most reliable, dependable person they had ever known and this was not like her. _This was not like her at all_.  
  


* * *

  
Over at her flower shop, Abigail was swamped with work. She’d been feeling a bit nauseous all morning, but had put that down to the copious amounts of food she had consumed lately. Having a best friend and a cousin who were both masters in the kitchen had upsides and pitfalls. She had been fielding customers since she opened the shop; those who wanted to send a ‘thank you’ to families who had hosted them for Thanksgiving, and those who already wanted to put their Christmas wreathes up.  
  
She was a few hours into her working day when she realised that she hadn’t seen many people coming and going from the Bell, Book, and Candle. Her cousin usually did a roaring trade this time of year. Abigail peered out of the window, around the display of autumn-coloured blooms, but couldn’t make out any signs of activity at Cassie’s shop.  
  
When she had finished with the last customer in the shop, she flipped the sign on the door around to ‘closed’ and headed across the street to investigate.  
  
“Cassie?” She knocked on the glass panel in the front door. The sign here still showed ‘closed’ as well. “Cassie, if you’re in there open up! It’s Abigail.” She added uselessly, she knew her cousin would sense it was her.  
  
When there was no reply, Abigail took out her phone and called Cassie’s number. When it went to voicemail, Abigail felt panic start to gnaw at her. She never needed to worry about her cousin; she always had everything under control. So why did Abigail have a bad feeling about this? She dialled a different number.  
  
“Sam? It’s Abigail. Is Cassie with you today?”  
  
“No, I haven’t seen her. Martha came to complain that the shop is shut, and I haven’t been able to get hold of Cassie.”  
  
“I’m a little worried, Sam.”  
  
“Me too. Where are you now?”  
  
“I’m outside the Bell, Book. It doesn’t look like it has been opened today.”  
  
“Do you have a key?”  
  
“Yep,” Abigail replied, jingling the key chain that held one of the spare keys for Cassie’s shop. She didn’t think she’d ever had cause to use it before now.  
  
“I’ll be right there, okay?”  
  
Abigail could sense the panic in Sam’s voice too which served to reassure her and terrify her in equal measure. Sam was sensible, level-headed; a scientist by nature. If he was worried about Cassie, then Abigail knew that her own instincts had to be right. Even though, for once, she sorely hoped she was wrong.  
  
She waited for Sam to arrive before she unlocked the door and stepped into the shop. He followed close behind, but nothing seemed amiss. He took his phone out and dialled Cassie’s number again. This time they could hear it ringing and quickly followed the sound to the shop’s back room.  
  
“Cassie!” Sam called, ahead of Abigail now as they raced across the shop floor. “Oh my god, Cassie.”  
  
Abigail was glad she had waited for Sam. Not only was he a calming, rational presence but he was also a medical doctor. She held her breath as Sam checked Cassie’s pulse and moved her into recovery position. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to; if she had she was convinced she would have cried. Abigail Pershing did not cry in front of anyone, as a rule.  
  
“Abigail, I need you to phone for an ambulance.” He instructed in what the younger Merriwick could only describe as his ‘Doctor Radford’ voice.  
  
“Is she...is she going to be alright?” Abigail asked while trying to make her thumbs behave long enough to dial.  
  
“I think so, but she’s unconscious. I’m worried she might have hit her head.”  
  
Abigail forced herself to adopt her usual no nonsense tone as she asked for an ambulance, passing her phone to Sam when the operator started asking questions she couldn’t answer. All she could think about was how was she going to tell Grace? Would the youngest Merriwick already sense that something was wrong?  
  
While they waited for the ambulance, Sam called Eve and asked her to postpone his appointments for the rest of the day. He would go with Cassie to the hospital, no matter what happened.  
  
“I need you to stay here,” he told Abigail. “I need you to be there for Grace, and make sure that Nick is okay. I’ll keep you informed of everything I find out, and as soon as it’s okay I’ll let you know when you and Grace can come and visit her.”  
  
Abigail nodded. As fiercely independent as she was, right now it was good to have someone making the big decisions for her.  
  
“Did she say anything to you yesterday about being unwell?”  
  
“Only that she’d thought she’d eaten too much this Thanksgiving.”  
  
“Haven’t we all,” Abigail replied. “She wasn’t worried about anything, was she?”  
  
Sam shook his head, but he was also trying to decide if he’d missed a vital clue.  
“No, she just said she had a lot to do at the shop.”  
  
“I hate this Sam, where is the damn ambulance!” She decided that anger was better than falling apart; she couldn’t afford to do that right now.  
  
“Any second,” He replied as calmly as possible while he looked around the little room. It looked like Cassie had been busy before whatever had happened to make her pass out. He couldn’t believe this was the woman he had joked and flirted with the night before, the same woman who meant more to him than he was ready to admit. 

_Where was that damn ambulance_?


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited/added this story to their alerts. Here's Part 2 and things are about to get...weird (like, I still honestly don't know how this idea happened).
> 
> Thanks again to xfphile, who made some invaluable plot suggestions.
> 
> Merry Christmas xx

**Part 2:**

Sam stood back with Abigail as the ambulance crew arrived and went to work. He was fighting an internal battle between wanting to be Doctor Radford; calm and cool under pressure and just Sam, the anxious boyfriend of the woman he was dating.  
  
The paramedics were thorough and professional, but Sam still wanted to scream at them to hurry the hell up. He just could not get the memory of Cassie’s unconscious form out of his head. He knew Abigail was feeling the same. Cassie was a rock for so many people, and without her they were already starting to crumble.  
  
In the confined space at the back of the Bell, Book, and Candle, it was hard to move let alone manoeuvre in a stretcher. They managed it, but much of what Cassie had been sorting out from the estate sale was strewn across the floor. That wasn’t anyone’s concern at the present moment, getting Cassie the help she needed was at the forefront of everyone’s mind. So, if a small, engraved box with holly and ivy, polished so it shone like a pearl, rolled away under a cupboard, nobody paid it any mind.  
  
Sam was hoping that the ambulance wouldn’t cause a commotion, but this was Main Street and this was Middleton. A crowd of concerned onlookers had gathered, and Sam wished it made him feel gladdened that Cassie was so beloved and so well thought of, but right now it just made him feel angry. He clenched down on a growl on rage, suddenly feeling guilty for suggesting that Abigail stay behind. He didn’t envy having to be the one to answer their questions. Sam savagely hoped that Martha hadn’t bought a single Christmas gift from anywhere else yet, but then remembered that without her interfering, and whatever Merriwick spookiness Abigail had about her, Cassie might still be laying on the storeroom floor. It did not bear thinking about.  
  
Sam climbed into the back of the ambulance when instructed to do so. When he looked down at Cassie, she seemed somehow diminished to him. Her face was milky pale against the darkness of her shiny black hair, but at least he could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He thanked a god whose existence he wasn’t exactly sure of that at least she was still breathing.  
  
“Cassie, I know you can’t hear me...but I just want you to know that I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
His words felt trite and insignificant. He wanted to offer her more, but he couldn’t. And this wasn’t the time or the place to be making any grand gestures. If, and when, Sam was ready to voice his feelings for her, he would make damn sure that she was conscious and able to hear them.  
  
The ride to Hillcrest seemed to pass simultaneously as a blur and as the longest journey of Sam’s life. He kept his anger clamped down, knowing better than anyone that everyone there was doing their jobs properly. It was so frustrating to have such a lack of control. He kept Cassie’s hand in his as much as he could, but he never felt her squeeze it back like she always did whenever they held hands.  
  
When they arrived at the hospital, Sam was forced to stay in the ER waiting room. Part of him knew he could have pulled rank, but didn’t think the “don’t know you know who I am” routine would have won him any favours. He could only imagine how Cassie would have reacted. Instead he was forced to pace the waiting area. He had already sent a text message to Abigail who had locked up Cassie’s shop and her flower shop, and was heading to the school to collect Grace and Nick. They would all head back to Grey House where they could wait with George for whatever news Sam could give them.

Sam hoped for all of their sakes that it was good news.  
  
“Doctor Radford?” A middle aged doctor, with a greying blonde ponytail approached Sam just as he had been considering some of the poison they called coffee around here.  
  
“Hi,” Sam shook her hand, he didn’t yet know all of the staff at Hillcrest but he thought she looked familiar. “Is there any update?”  
  
“I’m afraid Ms Nightingale is currently in a coma. We’ve put her in a side room, and we’ve made her as comfortable as possible. You can come and see her now, if you like.”  
  
Sam felt his blood run cold. Coma. How could the woman who had been so vibrant and full of life and love just last night now be comatose? How was he going to make that call to Abigail; to Grace; to George? The whole town loved her; she was the heart of Middleton life (not even Martha would disagree with that).  
  
“Yes, yes I would.” He replied, and followed Doctor Bell robotically to Cassie’s room.  
  
“We’ll be in and out running tests, but you can sit with her a while.”  
  
“She has a daughter; can she come and visit later?”  
  


“Of course,” Doctor Bell was concerned. She knew of Sam Radford by reputation rather than personally, but he seemed somehow small and lost in the kind of hospital environment where he used to dominate. “Just try to keep it to one or two visitors at a time.”  
  
“Of course,” Sam echoed, but he had already stopped listening. Instead all of his attention was consumed by Cassie lying amongst the hospital bed linens like some kind of fallen angel.  
  
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Doctor Bell replied, giving Sam’s should a quick squeeze before she went off to continue her rounds.  
  
Sam took the chair next to Cassie’s bed, taking the hand that didn’t have the cannula in it and holding it in his own. He squeezed her hand very gently, desperate for her eyelids to flutter open and for her to look at him sleepily from under her eyelashes. He trailed a finger across her cheek; it was so soft and still warm.  
  
“Cassie, please,” he begged. “Come back to us; _come back to me_.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
Abigail drove Sam’s car to the hospital, grateful for the distraction of having no choice but to concentrate on the traffic. Grace sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the window but not seeing anything. Nick was in the back, despite having been given the opportunity to stay at home. Even he could sense that this was important. Cassie had become part of his family in the time since he and his dad had moved to Middleton. He had a feeling that if it was his dad in the hospital bed, Grace would not have chosen to stay home and play video games...or a more Grace-like hobby, anyway.  
  
They spoke little on the journey, but then Abigail and Grace didn’t really need to. The Merriwick bond stopped them from needing to communicate out loud. They were just hoping that together, it would help bring Cassie back to them. Three was a powerful number, and the Merriwick women, both past and present, had always been a force to be reckoned with. 

Sam came out to meet them when they arrived at the hospital, he was surprised but pleased to see that Nick had decided to come along too. He stayed outside with his son while Grace and Abigail went into the hospital.  
  
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Nick asked.  
  
“Of course she is,” Sam replied with conviction, which was as much for Nick’s benefit as his own.

* * *

  
  
Cassie felt strange. She felt disconnected from reality in a way she rarely ever did. She didn’t drink often; not enough to get drunk anyway and this felt different. The last thing she could remember was being in her shop. She had been absorbed in her work, eager to get started. She had plans. For the shop, for Christmas, _for Sam_.  
  
She sat up, wincing at the pain in her neck and shoulders. She tried to rub at the ache, but noticed that her hands and clothing were coated in dust and what looked like spiderwebs. It was cold, her black leggings and long-line sweater offering little protection against the elements. She didn’t even know where she was.  
  
Slowly pushing herself to her feet, she realised she was still in the storeroom at the back of the Bell, Book, and Candle. How strange, she thought. Had she passed out? She looked around but the room was empty now except for some old furniture, most of it broken, and an old fashioned broom. It reminded Cassie of how the Bell, Book, and Candle had looked when she first arrived in Middleton.  
  
With a sudden burst of anticipation, or was it trepidation, Cassie ventured out onto the shop floor. It was her shop alright, but it wasn’t _her shop_. Sunlight glinted through the dirty windows and she thought she spotted a mouse scurry off through a hole in the wall. Her full body shiver had little to do with spotting the rodent.  
  
The door was in need of repair and she was able to make her way out through it, dusting off her clothes as best as she could. She was almost blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the shallow puddles on the sidewalk as she stepped onto Main Street. Holding her hand up like a visor, Cassie shielded her eyes so she could better see her surroundings. The building which housed Abigail’s flower shop stood empty, but she could still spot the Bistro although the awnings looked different.  
  
This all seemed like a peculiar dream to Cassie. She almost expected to hear her alarm chime at any moment, but she had enough magic in her to know when she was under some kind of spell.  
  
She walked further along the street until she came to Sam’s medical practice; she was relieved to see it there. She pushed open the door and there he was; her Sam right in front of her.  
  
“Oh Sam, thank God. Something really strange is going on.” She rushed toward him.  
  
Sam made eye contact with Eve over Cassie’s head, and gave her a subtle nod.  
  
“Come on back into my office and we’ll talk about it.”  
  
Relieved as she was that something seemed normal at last, Cassie failed to read Sam. He gestured to a seat on the other side of his desk, which she distantly thought seemed a little formal. Sitting on his lap would have been inappropriate sure, but he was treating her like she was just another one of his patients. Oh, she thought, he _does_ think I’m just another patient. Her slightly dishevelled hair and dusty clothing probably wasn’t helping her situation either.  
  
“What seems to be the problem, Ms...”  
  
Sam rarely saw a new patient at the practice now that he was established in town. It had taken the residents a little while to trust him and open up to him, but he had won them over slowly and surely. The Middleton grape vine was so effective that he always knew in advance if someone new was moving to town and might want to register at his practice. He didn’t waste his time with local gossip, but he was sure he’d have paid attention if he’d known a woman like this was moving to their town.  
  
“Sam, it’s me. Cassie. Cassie Nightingale.” She stopped short of saying ‘your girlfriend’. She could see that would just make this situation worse.  
  
He frowned. How did this strange, beautiful, lightly dishevelled woman know his name? Okay, so he was a fairly prominent figure in the local community but not on the same level as the likes of Martha Tinsdale. Still, even if she had heard his name mentioned, it seemed oddly informal to call your doctor by their first name, didn’t it? And she seemed adamant that he knew her, too.

Hand on heart, he would not have forgotten if he’d ever met her before.  
  
“Ms Nightingale, I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”  
  
Cassie looked him in the eye and saw there was absolutely no glimmer of recognition there. What on earth had she walked into, and more importantly, _how was she ever going to get out_?

* * *

Cassie was finding it hard to grasp the situation she was in, and make some kind of sense of it, while trying not to give Sam any further cause to have her committed to the nearest psychiatric facility. Although she knew for a fact that a warm, tender heart beat beneath the surface, she also knew that he was the kind of man who relied on cool logic and scientific fact. It was something they had clashed over long ago (and occasionally still did), when he found out all his prospective patients chose her new age natural remedies over his cold, hard medicine.  
  
“Grace Russell,” she said, suddenly. “Do you know Grace Russell?” Surely if she found Grace, or Abigail, they would be able to help her set this all straight.  
  
“Grace?” Sam frowned. “No, I don’t know Grace.”  
  
Cassie felt her hopes plummet.  
  
“But there used to be Russells living in Middleton. The father died a few years before I moved here; a police accident, I think. He had two children but the son moved away to England with his wife last year, and I think the daughter is living in California now.”  
  
He looked at Cassie and saw the despondent look on her face. He usually knew exactly how to treat each patient. Even if it took a little time to get to the bottom of what was wrong with them, he knew which tests to give them; which drug to try. With Cassie, he was stumped. Aside from her slightly dusty appearance, she looked like a healthy, intelligent, well-adjusted woman but this was definitely one of the weirdest consults he’d ever had. And he’d worked in emergency medicine, so that was really saying something.  
  
“Is there somewhere I can take you?” He asked, gently.  
  
Cassie was quickly realising that all she had with her were the clothes she stood up, or currently sat down, in. She had left her phone up on the counter while she had been unpacking the boxes and assumed that was where it still was. She didn’t have any money; any ID; anything at all. Normally the picture of calm in any situation, Cassie could feel herself giving in to panic.  
  
“Grey House?” She suggested carefully.  
  
Sam’s eyebrows rose again.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Cassie felt her eyes fill with tears; tears she had to quickly blink away. No, she wasn’t sure; _she wasn’t sure about anything_.  
  
“Come on, I haven’t got any other patients till after lunch. I’ll drive you there.”  
  
If Sam was surprised when Cassie walked straight to his car without hesitation once they were out of the clinic, he didn’t mention it. They drove silently until they reached Grey House.  
  
Cassie covered her mouth with her hand; it looked exactly as it had the moment she had moved in. Strangely, she had always wanted Sam to see the house how it had been before she had renovated it and turned it into a B&B. It broke her heart a little to see it in a state of disrepair again.  
  
“What happened...why has no one redeveloped it or fixed it up?”  
  
Sam frowned again, wondering if he really should pay more attention to town gossip and folklore than he did.  
  
“Something about the deeds or the land registry...not being able to sell it while there was still a descendant alive?”  
  
“Oh,” Cassie felt something like hope bubble up inside her again. “Is it possible to look at those deeds?”  
  
“Uh sure, I assume they’re in the records room at the town hall.”  
  
She could have kissed him…would have kissed him if it wouldn’t have freaked him out and made him start doubting her stability all over again.  
  
“Would you be able to drive me there?”  
  
“Sure,” he replied, starting up the engine again but still look sideways at her. “May I ask what you’re hoping to find?”  
  
_My way home; my way back to you_ , she wanted to say.  
  
“That I’m the owner of Grey House.”  
  
Sam widened his eyes, but turned his attention to signalling and pulling out into the light traffic. Of all the things Cassie had said since they’d met, this seemed to make the most sense. 

* * *

  
Cassie was now the proud owner of Grey House once more. The sense of déjà vu it gave her was nothing compared to the rest of the emotions she was feeling today. She couldn’t help but remember how the town had reacted when she had first moved in, before she had become a much loved pillar of the community. She also couldn’t forget how Jake had helped her turn the tide of their opinion, as well as win her heart. But she knew she didn’t belong in this version of Middleton, and even this Sam wasn’t _her Sam_.  
  
At least she had a roof over her head now, and somewhere to hide out while she tried to understand what was going on. The question which kept coming to the forefront of her brain was, if she had ended up here, _what was happening in her Middleton?_ _  
  
_After freshening up with cold water at the kitchen sink, the only one that seemed to work, Cassie’s first port of call was the attic. She tried to prepare herself that it might be empty, or just filled with old junk, but her footsteps quickened on the creaking staircases the higher she climbed. If there was a way to get back home, she was sure it lay with the Merriwicks. The sense of relief she felt when she opened the attic door and found the familiar chests and boxes waiting for her, filled Cassie with so much relief it was almost palpable. She sank to her knees and began to search for her way home.

* * *

  
  
Sam thought of little else but the mysterious woman who had walked into his practice that morning. He worried about her rattling around in that big, derelict house all by herself. In truth, the house had always given him the creeps but Cassie had greeted it like a long, lost friend. Kind of like the way she had greeted him, actually. She clearly thought she knew him, but he couldn’t figure out how that could be the case.  
  
He was sufficiently intrigued that he picked up enough take out dinner for two and took it over to Grey House with him. It was a miracle that the house was upright, he doubted that something as simple as the stovetop was working.  
  
He knocked on the front door and dubiously eyed the spider that was dangling from the web it was constructing. Yeah, the place definitely had a spooky vibe. He had almost given up waiting when Cassie finally answered the door. He’d almost been sure that she was just a figment of his imagination. Some imagination, he thought to himself with a smile as the front door open.  
  
“Sam,” she looked happy to see him; happier still when she saw the take-out bag in his arms. “Sorry, I was up in the attic. It took me a while to get back downstairs without disappearing through a floorboard.”  
  
He found himself grinning stupidly back at her.  
  
“Is that Thai food I smell?” Sam nodded. “But that’s my favourite.”  
  
“I like it too, obviously, but I had a strange craving for it.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad you did.”  
  
“Is it safe to eat in here or will the whole place fall down around us?”  
  
“As long as you don’t sneeze or make any sudden loud noises, I think we should be safe.”  
  
God, he was charmed by her already.  
  
He followed her through the house, thinking that with some fairly extensive reconstruction it could be something really beautiful. There was a small table in the kitchen and two chairs, though of course they didn’t match. Sam was glad he’d picked up disposable cutlery and napkins. He unloaded the contents of the bag onto the table, noting how Cassie’s eyes lit up as each new carton was revealed.

They started to dig into the food, and Cassie realised how hungry she was. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had promised herself she’d go easy on food for a little while after their Thanksgiving feasts.

Sam chewed thoughtfully at his own dinner, not sure how to frame any of the questions he wanted to ask Cassie. At the moment, things seemed almost normal between them. They were just two people sharing dinner, but he knew that it was far more complex than that.

“What made you decide to come to Middleton?” He finally settled on asking.

Cassie paused, wiped at her lips with a napkin and tried to think of the best way to answer it so she wouldn’t send Sam running now that they’d come this far.

“It feels like home to me.”

“Me too.”

“How did you end up moving here?”

“I had a messy divorce, my ex-wife is…shall we say, difficult? I didn’t want to live in a big city anymore, and I thought the pace of small town life might suit me.”

Cassie grinned. “And did it?”

“Hell no, I wondered what on earth I’d gotten myself into,” he chuckled. “But it’s home now and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

A thought occurred to Cassie; if there was no Grace in this alternate Middleton she’d stumbled into, what about Nick?

“Is it just you?”

Sam nodded. “I actually live next door. It’s a big place for a guy on his own, but after cramped New York apartments, it’s heaven.”

Cassie digested this, still unable to make sense of what was happening here. She hadn’t found anything useful amongst the Merriwick trunks in the attic yet, but there was still a lot of material to go through. Nothing she had already learned about her ancestors seemed to apply to her current predicament.

“Will you be alright here by yourself tonight?” Sam asked as they loaded the empty containers back into the bag. He kept his tone light, not wanting her to think he was suggesting something else entirely.

“Yes, of course. It’s my home.” She hoped her smile was reassuring.

Sam hesitated. “Well, if you need anything; if you want to borrow a cup of sugar or… something, you know where I am?” He pointed in the direction of his house.

Cassie realised she really didn’t want him to leave. She wasn’t particularly worried about being on her own at Grey House, it was just that Sam, even though he wasn’t _her_ Sam, seemed to be her only link with normality.

“Thank you, Sam. And thank you for the food.”

“Anytime,” He smiled and then stood looking at each other for a few minutes, before Sam finally excused himself and said goodnight.

He put his hands in the pockets of his work pants and walked the short distance to his house. He had only met Cassie this morning, but he had already wanted to kiss her goodnight.

After Sam had left, Cassie went back upstairs to the attic. She found an old quilt to wrap around her shoulders as she pored over the Merriwick artifacts. She knew what she was looking for had to be in there somewhere, but it was taking its sweet time making itself known to her.

When she could barely keep her eyes open, Cassie back against one of the trunks with her knees up and the quilt wrapped around her. She couldn’t stop her thoughts drifting back to Middleton, _her_ Middleton and all the people she loved there. Would Grace be going out of her mind with worry? Would Sam be blaming himself for not being able to do more? It worried her more that she couldn’t feel or sense any of them, that had never happened to her before.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an extra long chapter as it's Christmas Eve!
> 
> So, you'll have to suspend your disbelief even more from this chapter onwards as I've taken some pretty huge liberties with the Merriwick/Davenport curse. Please forget everything you know from the show and just go with me on this. I've not re-written the curse itself, but kind of played on the existing curse and also ensured that Cassie, Abigail & Grace don't know about it.
> 
> I hope you all have the merriest Christmas possible (if you celebrate) and that we all have a better, brighter 2021.
> 
> There are another 3 parts of this story to go, and they'll all be posted before the end of the year. Xxx

**Part 3:**

When Cassie woke up the next morning, her head was clearer and she knew what she needed to do next. She had made a makeshift bed out of old cushions and blankets, and had slept surprisingly well. She wanted to get home as quickly as possible, but she was coming to terms with the fact that it might not be that simple. If she was going to be staying in _this_ Middleton for a while, she was going to need some basic supplies. She had made a list before she had gone to sleep, and now she was ready to put her plans into action.

First though, she was going to need another favour from Sam.

Despite having shared dinner and talked with her for the better part of two hours, Sam was still not convinced that meeting Cassie hadn't just been a fever dream. However, when a knock at the front door interrupted his bowl of cereal, he had his suspicions that it might be her.

"Good morning," he smiled, opening the door. She still managed to look radiant despite wearing yesterday's outfit.

"Hi Sam," When he continued to hold the door open, she followed him through into the kitchen.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

"No, thank you. I don't drink coffee."

"I'd offer you something else, but I really only have coffee."

Cassie didn't have the time or the energy to lecture another Sam Radford about the benefits of tea versus coffee.

"That's okay," she assured him. "I actually wondered if I'd be able to borrow your car this morning?"

Sam was surprised, and a little bit reluctant; he had only just met her yesterday. And after his messy divorce, he wasn't sure how good a judge of character he was when it came to women. He did have a good feeling about Cassie, though.

"I'll bring it back in one piece," She assured him. "And if I don't, well, Grey House is yours." She dropped the big old fashioned key on the kitchen table.

"It's okay," he replied "I trust you." Surprising himself, he found that he almost did.

"Just think of it as insurance."

Sam nodded, then went to retrieve his car keys.

"I'll bring it back to you later, and unless you have other plans, I'll bring dinner tonight."

Sam couldn't argue with that, or with the chance to get to share a meal with her again. He hoped that he'd get to find out some more about her, because he was definitely intrigued.

* * *

Cassie had loaded a small box with items she knew would fetch a good price at auction (mostly because she had already sold them once before) and set it carefully in the footwell of the passenger side of Sam's SUV. If she was going to be stuck in Middleton for the time being, she needed to make some money.

She drove to an auction house she had visited regularly and found a parking spot outside. She took the box inside and waited for it to be sorted and placed into lots. While she waited, she looked around at the other items up for sale. She had to grip the edge of a display table when a memory hit her forcefully enough to make her knees shaky. She remembered being back in the Bell, Book, and Candle storeroom, examining the treasures from the estate sale; the pretty little Christmas box. It was the last thing she had held before she passed out and ended up here. Was that the key to what happened, and even if it was, how was she ever going to track it down again?

"Ms Nightingale? I've just been admiring some of your pieces," Cassie turned, coming face to face with an attractive man around her age, or slightly younger. "My name's Donovan Davenport, this is part of my collection."

"You have some lovely pieces," she smiled, but she couldn't shake a feeling of unease although he seemed nice enough.

"I have more than I know what to do with, if I'm honest. It just seems a shame to keep everything boxed up or in storage when someone might get some enjoyment out of it."

"I completely agree." She replied, thinking that was part of the reason she'd wanted to run a shop like the Bell, Book.

"Are you buying or selling today?" Donovan asked.

"Perhaps a little of both," she said, just to be polite.

"Well, don't let me interrupt your browsing, but if anything here takes your fancy just let me know and I'll put in a good word." He all but winked as he walked away and Cassie couldn't help but smile. What a charmer, she thought, and so very not her type. She had never seen him before in her Middleton, but the name niggled at her memory.

Where _had_ she heard it before?

* * *

Grace was expecting to feel worse; more panicked; more afraid. She had already lost one parent much too young, but she didn't have a bad feeling about her mother. Yes, she was worried. Of course, she was. But these feelings; these abilities; the Merriwick blood in her veins, was keeping her from losing it. Strangely, she couldn't read what Abigail was feeling. It seemed like her cousin had built her defences so high than even Merriwick magic couldn't penetrate them.

The same could not have been said for Sam. Grace could feel his desperation and confusion bouncing off her like static electricity. This had to be so hard for him. He was a man of science, a man of modern medicine and logical deductions, and now all of that was failing him. There was nothing he, one of the top trauma surgeons in the whole country, could do to help bring Cassie back.

Not unless he started looking outside of the box for answers.

Grace had a feeling that it might just come down to that.

* * *

Cassie drove back into Middleton just as dusk was falling over the town, and was charmed by the pretty white lights decorating Main Street for Christmas. It felt so much like home and yet so alien all at once. That was kind of how it felt with this Sam; he was so familiar; so much like the man she was falling for, and yet none of their shared history was there.

To him, she was still only a stranger.

She was feeling more positive now that she'd managed to pick up some essentials with the money she had raised from the auction. And, as good as her word, she had picked up dinner for her and Sam. She wasn't sure if she should be spending as much time with him as she was, but it felt right. Being in his company helped to distract her from the sometimes overwhelming hopelessness of her situation.

Even if she was making some kind of progress, her forward steps weren't balancing out the backward ones.

Sam felt a sense of relief when he saw the headlights of his car through the glass in his front door. He hadn't expected for a second that she would drive away and never return, but he found himself feeling glad that she was back.

She looked more refreshed too, Sam thought. She was dressed in a clean sweater and jeans, which only made her look more beautiful to him. He gave himself a stern talking to about being carried away by the physical attractiveness of perfect strangers before going to answer the door.

She was holding two cardboard boxes of pizza, a shy smile playing at her lips.

"Sorry, I don't have any change to give you a tip," he found himself grinning as he took the pizza boxes from her and ushered her inside.

"The use of your car was more than enough payment, thank you so much." She held out his keys and their fingers brushed as he took them back from her. He passed the Grey House key back to her.

"You're very welcome. Did you have a good day?"

"It was productive," she replied. "Grey House should be a bit more comfortable now."

"Would you like a glass of wine?" He asked, opening a cupboard and taking down one glass.

"I'd love one," she replied, opening the pizza boxes while Sam took out another glass and went to the fridge for the bottle of Pinot that was chilling there.

They tucked into the pizza, neither of them speaking for a while as they enjoyed their food.

"So, what are your plans?" Sam asked a little later, topping off their wine glasses.

She couldn't tell him that her one and only goal was actually to get out of town, or more accurately back to her version of town; her version of _him_.

She tried to tell him something as close to the truth as possible.

"I want to learn more about my family; about how they fit into the history of the town. There are so many things at Grey House to look through, I just wish I'd paid more attention before."

Cassie had thought she'd known everything there was to know about the Merriwicks and how they tied into Middleton, but what she had previously learned wasn't helping her to find a way back home, or even explain how she ended up here in the first place.

Her mind kept going back to that trinket box, and then onto the mysterious character of Donovan Davenport.

"I'd be happy to give you a hand, but between the practice and the hospital, free time is a rare commodity."

"I appreciate that, Sam." She had to stop herself from reaching across and squeezing his hand. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn't her Sam. "I think it's probably something I need to do on my own though."

Grey House was chilly when Cassie arrived back after sharing dinner and wine with Sam. She had bought an inflatable mattress and a new pillow and blanket, so at least she'd be more comfortable tonight. Before she even thought about sleeping, she had more reading and research to do; she needed to find out why the Davenport name kept pricking at her subconscious.

She had a feeling, vague though it was, that it might be the secret to finding her way back home.

* * *

Cassie would have been naïve to think that she could arrive in this Middleton, take over the deeds to Grey House and subsequently move in, without attracting any attention. As much as she wanted to fly under the radar while she looked for a way home, she knew that was close to impossible in this small town. She knew that one townsperson in particular would be very intrigued by her arrival. Cassie just hoped that she and Martha got off to a better start this time than when she had first moved to Middleton.

But Martha surprised her, as she occasionally could, when she stopped by Grey House the following morning. Cassie was feeling refreshed after a better night's sleep, a wash and another change of clothes. She had bought supplies so that she wouldn't need to venture into town, but was limited to anything that could be stored in a cupboard or made with the use of an electric kettle. She missed cooking; missed the Thanksgiving feast which seemed an eternity ago now.

"Yoo hoo!" She heard Martha call as she made her way to answer the door. "Ah, Ms Nightingale, I presume."

"Please, call me Cassie." They shook hands, and Cassie couldn't help but think it seemed oddly formal.

Martha looked around with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. The place certainly needed some work doing to it. She offered Cassie a brown paper packet from her voluminous purse.

"After you picked up the deeds from the town hall, I found these other documents relating to the property and to your ancestors. I thought you might like to have them."

Although, taking in the general state of the house, Martha thought they might be safer back at the town hall.

"Thank you," Cassie replied, eager to see if there was anything useful there. She needed Martha to leave, but didn't want to seem rude in ushering her out.

Martha couldn't decide if she wanted the grand tour or not. Even from where she stood just inside the front door, the house didn't exactly look structurally sound. It didn't really seem like the place for a woman to be living alone either. At least Sam Radford lived next door, Martha knew he would keep an eye on Middleton's newest resident.

"I'll leave you to settle in, but please come and see me as soon as you can," she handed over a card with her contact information. "We can have tea."

Cassie smiled fondly at this.

"That would lovely, and thank you again for stopping by."

She waved Martha off and went back to the kitchen, hoping her luck might be about to change.

* * *

Cassie was poring over the documents that Martha had brought her, a cup of mint tea at her elbow. She felt almost calm as she read each page and turned to the next one. She refused to believe that she was stuck here; refused to believe that she would never make it back.

Her eyes starting to blur from reading the small print on the documents, and trying to decipher the old-fashioned calligraphical handwriting, closed for a moment. They opened just as rapidly and with her heart pounding, she read back over the last paragraph. It was a photocopy of an old document, the resolution making it difficult to make out the words but Cassie could pick out one; it had been the one that jogged her to pay attention again.

 _Davenport_.

Taking the paperwork with her, Cassie rushed back up to the attic, her tea forgotten. She started searching through the trunks with renewed vigour now. That niggling at the back of her mind had become stronger; so strong that she couldn't ignore it. She was onto something now, she was sure of it. The question was, would it bring her any closer to finding her way home?

* * *

Sam Radford was holding onto his temper, and his sanity, but only the thinnest gossamer thread. At times, particularly early in their relationship when Sam had first arrived in Middleton, Cassie had all but driven him to distraction. Not only was she beautiful, kind, educated, and playful, she was also a royal pain in his ass. He had never met anyone like her, and doubted he ever would. But while Cassie had challenged him and turned his world upside down, Abigail was closer to forcing him towards something that would find him guilty of first degree murder, or perhaps not guilty by reason of insanity.

It had been five days since he had found Cassie's inert form on the floor at the Bell, Book, and Candle, and Sam was losing his mind. His beloved medicine had let him down, and now Grace and Abigail seemed to have given up even trying to bring Cassie back. He just couldn't understand it, and he was sure it was taking years off his life…years that he would quite like to have spent getting to know Cassie Nightingale better, thank you very much.

Somehow even his marriage to Linda Wallace seemed like a afternoon stroll in the park on a beautiful spring day compared with these last few days. It frustrated him no end that as a world-renowned and respected doctor, there was nothing he could do to bring Cassie back to them. He knew that she was a fighter and she wouldn't leave Grace behind if she could help it, but still he worried.

But worry got you nowhere.

It just gave him more time to think. More time to regret the things he hadn't said, and to realise that perhaps he had been burying his head in the sand for a while now.

He had a lot on his plate. In fact, he had enough on his plate to fill an entire dinner service, so it wasn't a surprise that he could barely keep a lid on his temper when Abigail was around. It was possible to rein himself in when Grace was present, she was still a kid who was, temporarily at least, an orphan. Abigail was a grown woman though, and she should know better. He remembered how her hands had shaken when she dialled for an ambulance that morning in Cassie's shop, so how could she be so nonchalant now?

The four of them made their way to the hospital again that afternoon for visiting hours. George had offered to stay behind at Grey House and see to the guests who would be checking in for a pre-Christmas getaway. As they started their journey towards Hillcrest, Sam wished the older man had joined them. He might be Cassie's father in law, but would have felt less outnumbered with George along for the ride, especially as Nick had his earbuds in and was focused intently on his handheld video game.

When they arrived at Hillcrest, Sam suggested that Grace and Abigail visit with Cassie first. He was desperate to see her, but the two Merriwick women were family so it only seemed fair. He was only her boyfriend after all, and things were still fairly new between them. It was only just occurring to Sam that he wasn't thinking or behaving like someone who was only in the early stages of a romantic relationship.

No, Sam Radford was behaving like an infatuated man. Like a man in love.

And didn't that thought just strike the fear of god into him?

Well, actually. Maybe not as much as it once had.

* * *

"Hi Mom," Grace sat down next to the hospital bed while Abigail pulled in another chair from the corridor.

Grace had thought she might cry when she saw her mother so still and peaceful on the hospital bed, but her eyes were dry. There had been plenty on tears on her first and second visit, but it felt like something had changed since then. She wasn't sure if Abigail felt it too, but being back in this room with her mother only cemented that feeling.

"It's going to be okay," She continued, making Abigail raise her eyebrows.

The two younger Merriwicks locked eyes, both of them feeling the same emotion; the same certainty.

"I can't explain it Abigail, but I feel like I know she's going to be okay."

Abigail did wipe away a stray tear.

"Me too. It's like she's not even here at the moment."

Grace shook her head. "I don't think she is. I think we have to wait for her to come back to us."

They sat with Cassie for a while longer, the room quiet except for the sounds of the machinery keeping her breathing. They knew they had to be patient, but how on earth were they going to explain that to everyone else. _How were they going to explain that to Sam_?

* * *

Patience was something Sam had a complicated relationship with. When it came to waiting for Cassie to be ready to pursue a romantic relationship with him, he thought he'd been the perfect gentleman. As much as it would have killed him, he would have waited eternity for her. But right now, he couldn't summon an ounce of the stuff.

He had been prepared to support Grace, and to a lesser degree Abigail, through this because then he could put on his "Doctor Radford" persona and push his own feelings down.

He hadn't been prepared for _this_.

As usual, Sam had been blindsided by the Merriwick women. It shouldn't keep coming as a surprise to him, but here he was again

When Grace and Abigail joined him outside the hospital, there was no sign of tears shed and the two women seemed to be almost their usual selves. Sam felt a pulse of hope that he immediately tamped down as if crushing it out with the toe of his shoe.

Sam had been pacing outside, while Nick stabbed furiously at his games console, and it seemed like both of them were more concerned than either Cassie's daughter or her cousin. He knew he should be paying more attention to how this situation was affecting his son, but it was hard to concentrate on anything else while Cassie was at the forefront of his mind. He owed Eve a debt of gratitude, or a really nice Christmas present, for all of the appointments she had rescheduled for him recently.

"She's going to be okay," Grace said decisively. Abigail stood behind her and nodded.

"She's awake?"

Everything in Sam leapt to attention. It took every ounce of self-control not to burst into the hospital at a full sprint.

"No," Abigail replied, putting her hand on Sam's shoulder to stop him rushing off, but the single word she uttered had sapped the energy from him.

False hope was worse than no hope at all.

"Look Sam, you're going to have to trust us on this."

Abigail's voice was soothing and calm, but it only served to increase Sam's barely restrained frustration.

"I'm sorry Abigail, I didn't know you'd qualified as a doctor."

His voice was so harsh that even Nick tore his eyes away from his game to stare at his father. Sam's anger stemmed from the fact that Abigail wasn't more worried about her cousin. He knew there was more to the Merriwick women than met the eye but, for God's sake, Cassie was in a coma. It took all of his self-control, and that fact that Grace and Nick were present, not to physically shake Abigail. It didn't help that she was looking at him with an expression he could only describe as pity.

He had to clench his fists and take a long, deep inhale before he could speak again.

"You need to explain this to me,"

"Sam," he turned to Grace, trying to soften some of the steel in his eyes for her. "I don't know if we can explain it, but my mom she's not there right now."

His brow wrinkled into a frown, a dull ache beginning to throb at his temples.

"Because of the coma?"

Grace looked to Abigail for assistance before she continued.

"Well, yes, but she's not in there...she's somewhere else."

The dull ache was beginning to feel like a migraine; the whole day like a surreal, vivid dream.

"Where?"

"That's what we need to figure out."

The four of them drove back to Middleton in stony silence. At least that was Sam's perception of the journey home. Nick was engrossed in his video game, again and Grace and Abigail seemed to content to stare out of the windows at the passing views.

Sam wanted to scream.

He hated leaving Cassie alone at the hospital even though he knew there was nothing he could do for her, and that she was in the best place possible at the moment. He would go back later, when visiting hours started again, and he would go alone. While Grace and Abigail might trust that everything would work out, Sam knew that time was critical when a patient was in a coma. It had already been much too long.

He couldn't even bear to consider that he might lose her. The breakdown of his marriage to Linda had made him cynical about love and relationships. He had been convinced that he wasn't the sort of person who should have a relationship, especially not with a demanding, sometimes all-consuming vocation like his. Cassie had started to change all that though. In truth, it had started changing from the moment he had met her, but it had taken both of them time to realise that what they shared was more than just a neighbourly connection or a budding friendship.

Time away from her was only making Sam realise how much he needed her in his life.

Since arriving his arrival in Middleton, neither of them had really left the town and although Sam didn't always see her every day, he had always known that she was right there if he needed her.

He had never had the opportunity to miss her before, and he did not like the feeling one bit.

* * *

After Sam had dropped Grace, Abigail, and Nick back at Grey House, he didn't feel like going home or stopping off at his practice. Eve had already rescheduled all of the day's appointments so he decided to pay a visit to the Bell, Book, and Candle instead. It had remained closed since the day that Cassie had been taken away in the ambulance, and Sam knew she would hate it being closed during the run up to the holiday season. She hadn't even put the Christmas decorations up yet.

Abigail had given him the spare key so he quietly let himself into the Bell, Book. He made sure that the alarm was set correctly, and then made his way to the back of the shop. It was in even more of a state of disarray since the paramedics had arrived and loaded Cassie onto the stretcher. Sam didn't think anything had been broken and bent down to pick up the ornaments that were strewn across the floor. He put them back into the cardboard boxes, hoping that it wouldn't be that long before Cassie could come back and sort them how she wished.

He was about to stand up, brushing dirt from his knees when he spotted another item. It had rolled underneath an old table that Cassie used to stack the cleaning materials she used for the shop. It was a pretty little box, he thought, though he knew next to nothing about antiques. It was Christmas themed, small and beautifully carved. Even though it must have been in storage for a while, it still shone like it had been recently buffed and polished.

For reasons Sam could not have explained, he took the box with him when he left the Bell, Book, and Candle.

He couldn't have told you why, but something told him it was important.

Several extensive Google searches did not help Sam to discover the provenance of the trinket box. In the end, he had to cave and ask the advice of his teenage son. Within seconds, Nick had taken a picture of the box on his phone and then run a reverse image search. Sam thanked him, wishing he'd asked his son for help earlier.

"Are you alright, Dad?" Nick asked uncertainty, he wasn't used to seeing his father like this.

He was worried about Cassie too. Middleton didn't felt half as homely without her.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I'm probably clutching at straws, I just can't stop thinking about Cassie."

"I think she'll be okay," Nick replied. "I just...I don't think she'd leave you without putting up a fight."

Where Grace and Abigail's assurances had only served to frustrate him, Nick's quiet words almost brought tears to his eyes.

"I agree, I'm sure she's working as hard as she can to get back to us." He couldn't know how true that was. "I don't say it enough, but you know I love you, don't you Nick?"

Nick looked uncomfortable in the way that only teenage boys could.

"Love you too," he muttered, before leaving the room in an awkward hurry.

Sam hit print and waited while the documents spilled out of the printer. He'd take them to the hospital with him to read while he sat with Cassie. Maybe he'd find out something useful, maybe he wouldn't. He was currently willing to give anything a shot if it helped bring Cassie back to him.

* * *

Christmas music greeted Sam when he stepped into the hospital, and he ground his teeth. He didn't want to think about the holidays at all while Cassie still lay in her coma. Thinking that he could quite happily punch that little drummer boy, Sam made his way to Cassie's side room. They had changed her into a hospital nightgown and she looked peaceful against the covers, her dark hair standing out in relief against the white pillow. She looked pale, but not worryingly so and the machines kept her breathing even. Still, the sight of his vibrant, compassionate, beautiful girlfriend in this condition had Sam struggling for emotional control.

They said that doctors made poor patients, but Sam would have swapped places with Cassie in a millisecond if he could.

He dragged the visitor's chair closer to her bed and sat down, reaching for her hand and wrapping it with both of his; it seemed so small and fragile in his grasp. Sam felt tears beginning to blur his vision, and he blinked hard against them.

He had to be strong for Cassie.

He talked to her, feeling a little foolish at the one-sided conversation. There was so much emotion bubbling up inside him, but he didn't know what was true and what had been provoked by this horrible situation. Could they be one and the same?

Once he had got over the shock of seeing Cassie like this again, he realised that the room was quite peaceful. He couldn't hear much of the other comings and goings in the hospital, just the occasional squeak of the refreshments trolley being pushed along the corridors. He leaned back and tried to make himself comfortable in the chair, taking the paperwork he had printed out of his pocket. The trinket box itself was still sitting next to his computer, but Sam wondered whether he should have brought it with him and then further wondered why that had occurred to him.

It had been a long, emotional, stressful day, so no wonder he wasn't thinking as rationally as usual.

Admittedly there hadn't been much information available online about the trinket box, most of it just relating to the style of the day and its resale value, but Sam devoured what he had found. It may not help him in the slightest in bringing Cassie back, but it gave him something to think about; maybe a line of enquiry to investigate.

He wished he could remember where Cassie had said she had bought the new items for the Bell, Book, and Candle. She was often at estate sales, house clearances and auctions, and she usually went during the day while he was at the clinic so had never been able to go with her. Being as methodical and organised as she was, Sam was sure that Cassie would have that information to hand either at the Bell, Book or at Grey House.

A nurse, one that Sam recognised from spending time at the hospital as faculty rather than as concerned boyfriend, popped her head around the door nearly two hours later to tell him that visiting hours were over.

Stiffly, Sam got up from his chair and leaned over to kiss Cassie's cheek and then her forehead, gently pushing back her silky black bangs.

He had never wanted to leave her less than he did right now.

"I'll come back and see you tomorrow," he promised her, giving her hand a final squeeze.

"We'll take good care of her, Sam." The nurse replied.

"Thanks Susan," he said gratefully, draping his jacket over his shoulder and slowly making his way out of the hospital.

He drove back to Middleton in silence, the radio had only infuriated him and he needed some time alone with his thoughts. He wished that he had the faith that Grace and Abigail had. Perhaps that was why he had been so angry with them earlier. He thought that because he had a connection with Cassie too, that he should be able to pick up on what they were feeling.

He realised it hurt him to know that they had a connection; a bond with her that he could not reach.

Or could he?

Grace was a sensible young woman, and Abigail was fiercely intelligent, even if she ground his gears sometimes. Maybe he needed to try and find some of that faith they seemed to have. But he was more of an action-oriented type of guy, not one to sit around when there was work that could be done. You couldn't sustain a twelve hour emergency surgery with that kind of sit-back-and-hope-for-the-best attitude.

No, tomorrow he would do what he could to find out where exactly Cassie had come across the strange and beautiful trinket box, and try to get to the bottom of why he felt like it was so important.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a lovely Christmas (if you celebrate) 
> 
> Here's chapter 4, again please bear with me as a I basically re-write the Merriwick/Davenport canon. This part is slightly shorter, and there are two more to follow.

Part 4:

Sam had a whole day ahead of him without any patients so his first port of call, after Grace and Nick had left for school and Abigail had gone to the flower shop, was Grey House. He felt a little guilty prying through Cassie's files, but if the tables had been turned he would have let her dig through all of the skeletons in his closest (not that there were many these days) if it meant he would be reunited with her and Nick again.

He was so engrossed in his imagined subterfuge that the sound of George arriving nearly had Sam screeching in panic. Placing his hand over his racing heart, he turned to face the older man.

Maybe it was concern for Cassie, but George really looked his age today.

"Hi Sam, I thought it might be you."

"George, sorry for snooping, I just thought I might find something that could help Cassie."

"You go right ahead," George sat down heavily on one of the chairs in the corner. "The house just doesn't feel the same without her."

"Nothing feels the same without her," Sam replied, grateful that at least he and Cassie's father in law were on the same page. He wasn't sure he could have coped with somebody else who was convinced that Cassie was going to be fine.

As much as Sam tried to have faith that she would just come back to them like nothing had happened, his medical brain just couldn't quite believe it.

"We can't lose her, Sam. Anything you need; anything you think that can help to bring her back home to us, it's yours."

"I appreciate that."

"And if there's anything I can do to help…"

"Well, actually George…" Sam could really do with an ally in all this. It would be easier not to have to go through it alone. "Do you know which estate sale Cassie went to at the start of the month? They delivered her purchases to the Bell, Book, and Candle right before Thanksgiving."

"Ah, I think I remember, it was a property just on the outskirts of town, between Middleton and Blairsville." George was nodding thoughtfully. "It was owned by an older lady, never married if I remember correctly. She'd amassed a lot of belongings over the years. Cassie was thrilled with what she'd found, really thought her customers at the Bell, Book would be impressed."

Sam started to feel like he was getting somewhere and, despite the spike it had given his blood pressure, was glad that he had run into George.

It was a quicker search now both of them were involved; both spurred on by how much they missed Cassie and how concerned they were.

"Here it is!" Sam said triumphantly, holding up a sales invoice dated from the first week in November. He looked around at the slight disarray they had caused, but found himself looking forward to potentially getting in trouble with Cassie for interfering with her filing system.

He was sure he could find a way of making it up to her.

"The address isn't far away at all," George said, peering over Sam's shoulder. "If you drive, I can navigate."

"You want to go there right now?" He frowned. At least George seemed keen to take action rather than sit back and wait for Cassie to make her own way back to them.

Sam respected the older man even more for it.

George shrugged. "It can't hurt, can it?"

Sam couldn't argue with that, so they headed out of Grey House and walked towards his SUV. They could stake out the house and make it to the hospital in time for visiting hours to start.

* * *

Cassie was sat crossed-legged on the floor in the attic at Grey House. She had been sitting there in the same position for so long that both of her legs had long since fallen asleep. She stared at the page in front of her, unable to believe that she had missed such a key piece of not only Middleton history, but _Merriwick history._

How could she not have known that such a scandal had existed? She wasn't sure if it helped with her situation in any way, but it couldn't have been a coincidence that of the few people she had met since arriving in this Middleton, was Donovan Davenport.

She wondered how much Donovan knew; whether he knew or suspected who she was. She thought about trying to talk to him again, but she wasn't sure how to even broach this kind of conversation with him.

She thought about the box; the one she had been about to open when she had passed out and found herself here. Somehow it tied together, she was sure of it but even if she got to the bottom of it, would it send her home?

* * *

Sam and George pulled to a stop outside of the property. It looked abandoned; a real estate sign propped up outside of the front door. Perhaps they'd just have a snoop around and get the lay of the land, and if they needed a better look they could make an appointment with the realtor. Sam felt better for actually getting out and doing something, especially with George there for moral support. He wasn't sure he could have gone to work and carried on as if it was any other day.

They climbed out of the car and slowly approached the property. No one stopped them and they assumed the area had been vacated. The house and its contents had been put on the market after the owner had died from a long illness. There were no direct descendants to inherit, so the contents had been auctioned off and the house was in the process of being sold.

Sam wasn't quite sure what he had expected to find, but coming here would put his mind and his curiosity at rest.

"It's quite the property," George commented as wandered around the perimeter. "It would take a whole team of gardeners to do justice to a garden of this size."

"Thinking of volunteering?" Sam asked, with a sideways smile. God only knew they needed to lighten the atmosphere.

"Not with my back, no." George tried to keep his tone light too, but it was hard to keep from worrying. He had lost his daughter and his son-in-law much too early, he couldn't face losing Cassie too.

At the back of the property was a flimsy wooden door, with what looked like only a thin panel of glass in the frame. It didn't exactly look secure.

"Wait, what are you doing?" George exclaimed, as Sam's wrapped his fist in his jacket sleeve and made to punch a hole through the thin glass.

"Breaking and entering," Sam replied. "But if anyone asks, it was like it when we got here."

George raised his eyebrows. "I hope for both of our sakes that the place isn't alarmed."

But, fine house those it was, it didn't look like the owner had splurged on an alarm system, or security cameras.

"You wait out here and call me on my cell if anyone shows up, okay?"

Reluctantly, George nodded and stood by while Sam let himself into the property.

Inside, it smelled musty and deserted. Although he knew no one else was home, Sam crept across the wooden floorboards, his heart rate spiking again. He was really getting too old for this kind of thing. The house was empty, the floorboards bare except for some old stair carpet that looked as old and worn as the house. He looked in all of the rooms, starting to feel dejected and like the whole thing had been a mistake. But he had been so sure that this house was important somehow.

Unable to keep the hopelessness at bay, Sam made his way back downstairs and out through the back door to where George was standing guard.

"Nothing," He sighed.

George looked at his watch, they still had another hour until visiting time at the hospital.

"Why don't we go and speak to the realtor?"

Sam considered this, it couldn't be more pointless than the way they had spent the rest of the morning.

* * *

It was blissfully warm inside the realtor's office after Sam and George's excursion outside. Unfortunately for Sam, they were also playing a Christmas radio station quietly in the background. It was still early in December and he was already sick of Christmas. He knew he'd soon change his tune if Cassie came back to him. He knew she had had plans for a wonderful Christmas for them; their first as a bona fide couple. He would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't looking forward to starting a variety of Christmas traditions with her, not least getting a proper kiss under the mistletoe.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" The friendly, rotund realtor in his early fifties asked as he took a seat at his desk, Sam and George occupied comfortable visitor's chairs opposite.

For some reason, Sam suddenly remembered that Ryan had been a realtor. It seemed a long time ago now that Sam had first moved to Middleton and, smitten by Cassie as he had been almost from the get-go, his perhaps not-so-friendly rivalry with the man who thought he was owed Cassie's heart. Sam hoped he had a better experience with this particular realtor.

He also hoped that Martha never found out that he and George had been making enquiries about property in Blairsville, he feared he would never hear the end of it if she did.

"We were just passing through," said Sam. "And we noticed some of the lettings in your window display. My father in law and I were particularly struck by this property."

He tapped the photocopy of the listing that was sitting on the desk with his fingernail.

"Ah, a lovely property that one," their realtor, who had introduced himself as Mike replied. "Unfortunately it's in a bit of a sorry state at the moment, it could really use some TLC. Here, let me show you some pictures of what it was like back in the day."

Mike pulled up some files on his computer, finally selecting an album of images.

"These were taken when a valuation was done on the property about twenty years ago so the quality isn't excellent, but you can get an idea of how wonderful the property could look with some care and attention."

"Wow," Sam said, making a show of turning to George. "It looks amazing. Can you tell me anything about the previous owner?"

If Mike thought this to be an odd question, he didn't let on. In truth, he was worried about how to get the property off the market. There had been precious little interest since it went on sale several weeks ago. It wasn't the greatest time to be selling property as most people didn't want to move before Christmas, but he had never known a house to have this little interest. He hoped he could convince these two men that it was exactly what they were looking for.

"The house had been passed down for generations, but it was just the final descendant; a lovely old lady, who lived there at the end. It was really too much for her, which was why the upkeep suffered in the last few years, but she didn't want to downsize or give up the house."

"I can understand that," Sam sympathised. "Is there not any family who would be looking to inherit?"

"No. The lady didn't leave a will so it was left in the hands of her lawyers. Her closest family do still live in Blairsville, but there has been a rift between them for decades."

Sam pondered this, still not sure if he was getting anywhere or just wasting all of their time. He wished he could know what Cassie would be doing in this situation. Maybe he did need to take what he had learned so far, precious little though it was, and present it to Abigail. Maybe the Merriwick in her would be able to shed some light on the situation. He couldn't believe that both and Grace were just content to wait until Cassie found her way back to them. That just didn't sit right with him.

"I could take you to the house and show you around if you'd like. You can really get a feel for the place then."

Sam didn't really see the point in letting Mike show them around the property when he thought he had done a fairly thorough search of it himself. It would look a little strange if they turned him down though, and perhaps something might grab his attention that he had missed before.

* * *

Putting together everything that she had learned from her searching in the Grey House attic and from the packet of documents that Martha had brought her, Cassie realised she was going to need to borrow Sam's car again. If the idea of seeing him again gave her a pleasant kind of jolt, she tried not to think about it but it was hard to remind herself that he wasn't the man she loved, not really.

She hoped she'd be able to bribe him with dinner again, but if they sat and talked while they ate she knew she would have to start giving him some more honest answers. How he responded to said honesty would be the interesting part.

She walked into town, smiling at a few people but not seeing anyone she knew well. She passed what would have been the Bell, Book, and Candle, it's façade still dusty and boarded up. It made her a little sad to see it that way, and made her miss her own shop back home.

Sam's car was parked outside the clinic when she walked inside, greeting Eve this time and feeling a lot more in control of herself than the first time she had stumbled in here. It helped that she wasn't covered in dust and was wearing a clean sweater.

"Is Sam available?" She asked after they had exchanged pleasantries.

"His next patient was delayed so he's just catching up on some paperwork. Head on back, if you'd like."

"Thanks Eve," Cassie walked towards his office and knocked lightly on the door.

"Oh, hey Cassie," he grinned, looking up from his laptop.

"I'm really sorry but I'm going to need another favour. Can I borrow your car again?"

"Of course," he replied, but couldn't help the curious look on his face. "Going someplace nice?" It didn't come out quite as light and teasing as he'd hope, and Cassie realised she was just beginning to test his patience.

Normally she quite enjoyed seeing him a little exasperated, but this was not one of those occasions.

"There's something I need to look into. I won't be gone long. Dinner is on me again as a thank you."

She supposed she could have taken a cab, but she didn't want somebody waiting around while she did whatever it is she was going to do. She still wasn't quite sure what that was herself yet.

"Okay, that's fine." Sam agreed, but they were prevented from discussing it any further by the arrival of Sam's next patient.

He wordlessly handed Cassie his car keys and she quickly excused herself from the room with a silent thank you.

Outside, she started the car and made her way out of town. She couldn't tell if this was going to lead closer to getting back home or if she was just starting out on a wild goose chase. It was better than sitting alone in Grey House and wondering.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up outside the property that she had visited just after Halloween in her own Middleton. From the outside, it looked much the same as how she had remembered it. She climbed out of Sam's SUV and locked it, pocketing the keys and strolling across the long grass to the front door. She peered in through the glass panel, but the place appeared to be empty. It had a desolate, abandoned look about it and Cassie could not sense anyone nearby.

She circled the property, seriously considering breaking and entering when she felt something. It was unlike any of the other feelings she had experienced since waking up in this alternate Middleton.

It felt like home.

She walked around to the front of the property again, and this time tried the door handle. It swung open noiselessly when she pushed, as if it had been recently oiled. She quietly crossed the threshold so that the heels of her boots did not echo against the hardwood floors. The further she walked into the house, feeling was stronger somehow. It was almost as if she could hear voices, but she couldn't make out the words.

"Sam?" She asked softly of the quiet house. She stopped still so that the only noise she could hear was the frantic beating of her own heart.

About to chastise herself for being ridiculous, Cassie picked up one foot to move further into the house but stopped. Unless she really was hallucinating now, she had heard her own name. She was sure of it. She was equally sure that the person who had uttered it was Sam. Not the Sam she had left behind at his medical practice, no, the Sam she had left behind in her own Middleton.

"Cassie?"

"Sam," She said louder this time, tears flooding her vision. "Sam. Can you hear me? I'm trying to get home to you."

"Cassie. Cassie, are you there?"

His voice was getting fainter, and wherever Cassie moved in the house he seemed further away. She let the tears come now; tears of frustration and loneliness; tears of missing her nearest and dearest.

She had come so close and now her chance to go home had been taken away. Would she ever have another shot at finding her way back?

* * *

Sam tuned out Mike's droning on about the benefits of this property, and how wonderful it would be with just a lick of paint and a new rug for the hallway. Savagely, Sam thought the best thing for the property was setting fire to it and starting all over again. He could tell that George was trying his best to look engaged, but really both of them wanted out so they could get to the hospital for the start of visiting hours.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Despite his relationship with Cassie, and their long journey there from neighbours to friends to more, Sam was not a superstitious man. He liked facts, and data, and results you could see. He couldn't have explained this, though.

He felt her. He felt her presence like she was in the very same room; like he could turn around and they'd be face to face.

He looked at George, but the older man was still trying to keep Mike thinking they might actually be interested in making an offer on the property.

Sam left them to it, walking deeper into the house. He was familiar with the layout after their earlier visit, and did not pay attention to where he was walking. He just followed his own heart, which was pounding a frantic tattoo in his chest.

"Cassie?"

He kept his voice low, trying out her name but not expecting anything in response. He wasn't crazy, for goodness sake.

It was almost like he could feel her sharp inhale of breath, but he didn't for a moment believe she was really there. It just wasn't possible. Cassie Nightingale was across town, comatose in a hospital bed, not wandering the abandoned hallways of a house in Blairsville.

"Sam?"

He could not have imagined that. Not even after a long night of tossing and turning, and disjointed, vivid dreams about Cassie.

Doctor Samuel Radford was not the kind of man who heard voices. He certainly wasn't the kind of man who replied to said voices.

Except when he did.

"Cassie?"

"Sam, can you hear me? I'm trying to get home to you."

"Cassie. Cassie, are you there?"

He knew he was losing her. It felt like driving out of range of radio reception, except that had never made him feel this kind of loss before. Sam was forced to concede that perhaps Abigail and Grace had been right; Cassie's body might be lying in that hospital bed but she, well, she was somewhere else entirely.

He knew now, that if they were ever going to get Cassie back, he was going to need their help. And a heavy dose of that ole Merriwick magic.


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes the penultimate chapter of this story - this is the one in which I have super-butchered the Merriwick/Davenport curse, but that's what fanfic is for, right? Haha, anyway, I hope you enjoy it. The final part will be with you shortly :)

Part 5

Cassie was still shaken when she pulled Sam's SUV to a stop in front of his house. She was no stranger to picking up on subtle feelings, those little things that slipped under the radar for most people, but she had never experienced anything like this before. She climbed down from the car and locked it, leaning against the door for a few moments to get her equilibrium back.

Approaching Sam's front door, Cassie stopped. She had promised to bring dinner again as thanks for the loan of his car, but she had been so distracted by what had happened in Blairsville that it had slipped from her mind.

In fact, she couldn't really remember the journey back to Middleton.

She knocked on the door, and Sam answered it quickly. The sight of him sent Cassie's heart rate soaring again. It was so difficult to look at him and remember that he wasn't _her_ Sam. She had never wanted to be close to him as much as she did just now.

"Hey," he could feel the tension radiating from her, but simply stepped aside to let her in.

She blindly walked through to the kitchen, setting his car key down on the table.

"I think you promised me dinner," he tried to keep his tone light and teasing, but he was concerned about her.

"I know, I'm sorry," she shook her head, as if that would help to clear her thoughts. "I could cook for you?"

"Be my guest. I don't cook much, so there won't be much in the way of ingredients."

Sam poured them both a glass of wine, taking a seat at the table as he watched Cassie make her way around the kitchen like an expert. She seemed to know exactly where everything was kept. He decided not to dwell on that and took a sip of wine instead.

Half an hour later, Cassie placed a dish of ratatouille on the table, alongside a bowl of salad leaves that were only just starting to curl up at the edges.

"Amazing," Sam sat back as Cassie served a portion onto a plate for him. "I would never have known I had all the fixings for this."

"You've just got to know where to look," she replied, spooning up some dinner for herself even though she had left her appetite back at the house in Blairsville.

They ate in silence, except for Sam's occasional satisfied groans at how good the food was. Cassie wanted to talk to him, wanted to get some of what she was feeling off her chest but had no idea how to even start. For his part, Sam could tell she was holding back. He didn't know her well enough to coax the words from her.

"The one who cooks can't be the one who does the clean-up," he said once their plates were empty.

"Sam, that's not fair. After everything you've done for me since we met, it's the least I can do."

"Fine," he acquiesced. "I'll wash, you dry."

It jarred her how quickly they had settled into this domesticated routine. When she had first met _her_ Sam, they two of them had not started off on the right foot.

And that was putting it mildly.

They had clashed about almost everything, and he had challenged her like no other. It had been irritating at first, but it was something she had come to love and respect about him.

As Sam rinsed off their plates, setting the clean crockery into the drying rack for Cassie, he couldn't help but be overwhelmingly aware of their physical proximity. He might be crazy, but there was almost something more intimate about sharing a dull, domestic duty with her than sharing a bed with some other woman. He had only known Cassie for a handful of days, but he couldn't remember the last time a woman had had an effect on him like this. He wasn't sure that one ever had, and he'd been married.

The kitchen was beginning to feel too small. He wished he had put the radio on, something to cut through the tense silence. It wasn't uncomfortable per se, but loaded.

"Cassie,"

There was something in his eyes, dark and dangerous, that Cassie had never seen before. They had been keeping things light and playful, but Cassie knew that her Sam was holding back. Trying to navigate a new relationship, one that they hoped had the potential to last, in a small town with teenaged children to consider, meant that the two of them hadn't had the opportunity (nor the privacy) to explore the physical side of their relationship.

Cassie was a little anxious about it on two counts. Firstly, there had been no one since Jake. Secondly, although they shared some similar personality traits, Sam was very much _not_ Jake.

She had a feeling that her intimate life with Sam would be very different to how it been with her husband.

He took the towel from her hands, cast it aside and took her forearms in his hands. She should have seen it coming; felt it coming, but her mind was still in the house in Blairsville.

She didn't even have time to make a sound of protest before Sam was covering his mouth with his, engaging her lips in a kiss that managed to be light and hot all at once. It was the kind of kiss that guaranteed you would want to drag him back for more the moment his lips left yours. She knew she couldn't do that though, it wasn't fair to either Sam.

It also made her realise that, no matter what the consequences were, she was going to have to come clean to him.

About everything.

* * *

Sam Radford felt like he had entered a parallel universe, which was ironic really because that was exactly what Cassie was trying to explain to him. As much as it made his temples throb with tension, he had to admit that it did explain a lot of things he had considered strange about Cassie and her arrival in Middleton. He wasn't too proud to admit that he had let some things slide because he had been so enamoured by her from the very moment she had burst into his practice.

The rest of it; the fact that Cassie was claiming that another version of _him_ existed somewhere _out there_ was beyond his comprehension. Yet he didn't think Cassie was lying to him, and he also didn't think she was crazy.

"So, you and me…we're together…where you come from?" He felt stupid for latching onto that part, but he was going to need to take this one baby step at a time.

"Yes,"

Simple seemed to be the best way forward. She was impressed that he hadn't thrown her out onto the street, or called for one of his colleagues who specialised in mental health.

"We've been dating a little while."

"Huh," he replied, rubbing at his eyebrows with the tips of his fingers and thumb. "Good for him, I guess."

"I'm trying to get back to him, and my daughter."

"You have a kid?" Sam's hand dropped to the table with a clatter of his ring against the surface. "It's not mine…well, _his_ is it?"

"As flattered as I am that you think I'm still young enough to have a baby, no. My daughter is sixteen, her name is Grace and her father was my husband. He died a few years ago. His name was Jake Russell."

Another piece clicked into place.

"She was the first person you asked about when you came into my office."

Cassie nodded, blinking at a sudden influx of tears.

"What can I do to help you, Cassie?" He stood up again and went to stand by her, putting his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a gesture of solidarity.

"I honestly don't know, Sam…just when I think I'm close to finding my way back, I feel like I'm back at the beginning again."

Not knowing what to say, he pulled her in for a hug. He marvelled at the way her head fit snugly under his chin and the way she felt in his arms.

It was going to be hard to let her go back, but somewhere out there, was another Sam Radford just dying for her to come home.

* * *

Neither Sam nor George spoke much as they drove from Blairsville to the hospital. Sam pulled his SUV into a parking spot just as visiting hours began.

"Do you want a little time with her on your own?" George asked.

"No George, you go on in. You haven't seen her since she's been admitted."

George nodded, looking at Sam with concern but decided not to question it. He had a feeling that the man needed some time alone with his thoughts. The longer Cassie was away from them, the greater the toll it took on them all.

The longer she was gone, the more time Sam had to think about his feelings…something he would really rather not do. The very thin ice of denial that he had been skating on for weeks (months, if he was being honest with himself), seemed to be cracking beneath his feet and he was afraid of plunging into that freezing metaphorical water.

He shook his head, wondering what _that_ analogy had come from.

Cassie was the warmest, most kind hearted person he had ever met. She also managed to be the strongest person he had ever crossed paths with. Linda had been cold and domineering, but beneath the exterior she was as weak and insecure as they came. Was he really just scared that what he had with Cassie would somehow become warped and twisted into his marriage-from-hell? He knew for a fact that Cassie would never be unfaithful to him, but he was still scared of pushing too hard and pushing her away. What if it turned out that they were just incompatible? From what he had heard about Jake, from Cassie and the rest of the town, he sounded like a wonderful man. Sam wondered if Cassie could truly find happiness with someone like him – someone who was more than aware of their flaws and all the reasons why they weren't suited for love and commitment.

Love.

Goddamn it.

It kept coming back to that, didn't it?

Checking to make sure that no one was watching, Sam kicked at the front tyre of his SUV. It didn't make him feel any better, and now his big toe throbbed. Sighing, he leaned against the car and took out his cell phone.

There were no messages, no missed calls. He started to type out a message to Abigail, but after the third attempt he gave up. He was about to put his phone back into his jacket pocket and catch up with George, when it started to ring. Startled, and still a little rattled from what ever had happened at house and his own introspection, Sam only just caught the phone before it slipped out of his hand and onto a frozen puddle.

"Hey Sam, sometimes it's easier to call someone rather than send a text message."

He should have known it would be Abigail.

"How did you know?"

"Oh, I can't tell you all my secrets Sam, but also those three little dots are a dead giveaway."

Sam rubbed at the tension in his forehead.

"Did you call me for a reason, Abigail?"

"Yes, actually…I might have found a way to bring Cassie back to us."

Sam all but spluttered.

"Oh, and you couldn't lead with that?"

"Come back to Grey House when you've finished at the hospital," Abigail continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Give Cassie a kiss from me."

She hung up and Sam shook his head.

These women would be the death of him, he was sure of it.

* * *

Still reeling from Abigail's phone call, Sam went into the hospital, finding George at Cassie's bed side. He gave the older man a moment to compose himself. It hadn't been easy for any of them, seeing their vibrant, radiant Cassie reduced to the unconscious form in the hospital bed. Sam hoped that Abigail really was onto something and that they could find a way to bring her back to them. A year ago, he would never have believed it possible. But life was Cassie had taught him that sometimes the right answer was the least expected one.

Sometimes even his beloved modern medicine wasn't the cure.

They sat with Cassie for a while until they were ushered out by a nurse. Sam still felt a wrench in his gut whenever he had to leave the hospital without. He just wanted so desperately to bring her back home.

"Abigail thinks she might have a lead," Sam told George as they walked through the corridors.

He watched hope flare in the older man's eyes. He had known Cassie for long enough not to be surprised or thrown off guard by the Merriwick gifts, or perhaps he was just better at hiding it now. Sam hoped that given enough time and proximity, he might be able to have the same nonchalance.

"It's about time," George sighed, thinking of how fruitless their morning had been. Sam felt differently though, George had not experienced what he had felt at the house.

He hadn't felt Cassie's presence, so close to him that it had almost been tangible.

They headed back to Middleton, both of them hoping that the next time they left the hospital, Cassie would be with them.

* * *

Abigail was in the sitting room when Sam and George arrived back at Grey House, the trinket box on the coffee table next to an old fashioned leather bound book. The two men shucked their winter jackets, laying them in front of the open fire to dry.

"So, while the two of you have been off playing Holmes and Watson, I've been doing some digging into the Merriwick history," she began as soon as George and Sam were seated. "It turns out that the feud between Middleton and Blairsville existed long before Martha Tinsdale."

This did rouse a smile from both men before Abigail continued.

"A visit to Blairsville's town hall," Sam and George exchanged a glance at this, neither of them had thought to look there. They might have got there eventually, but they were just mere mortals after all. "And their very helpful library assistant, provided me with the details of a very juicy scandal between the Merriwick family in Middleton and the Davenports of Blairsville. The feud between the towns dates back two hundred years, in fact exactly two hundred years."

Sam frowned. "Okay, I'm following you, but I don't see how this is going to help Cassie."

"Patience, Doctor." Abigail flashed him a brief smile. "One of the Merriwicks and one of the Davenports were due to get married in 1819, but it never took place. The scandal was that my ancestor, Patience Merriwick, was already in love with another man. This all came to light at Halloween 1819, but I found the documents you'd printed about the trinket box. In Blairsville, I found the receipt for the trinket box as the work was carried out by a local carpenter who was very revered at the time. His pieces make a fortune at auction these days."

Sam's head was spinning, yet he still couldn't understand why any of this was helpful. He had seen for himself from his Google search that the trinket box was invaluable, but he still hated the inanimate object with a passion.

He wished Abigail would just get to the point, but knowing her, if he complained she would just take an even more circuitous route to her denouement.

"In Roderick Davenport's personal journal, of which there is a copy in Blairsville records room, which has inspired me to destroy all of the diaries I kept as a teenager, there is an entry dated mid-November 1818. Roderick chronicled how he was going to have the trinket box made especially for his love, Patience Merriwick, as a Christmas present. It isn't mentioned again until mid-December, when he writes that he has decided to ask for her hand in marriage and has bought her an engagement ring. The box, he says, can go to his great aunt; a widow who loved trinkets almost as much as her cats," Abigail paused here. "I thought that was a little harsh myself, but it _was_ two hundred years ago."

"Okay. So, this trinket box was then passed down by the Davenports until the last descendant of that particular branch of the family died this October?" Sam clarified.

Abigail nodded, pleased that Sam was keeping up and hadn't freaked out about anything of this yet. Cassie had certainly opened up his mind, and his heart (though, why he was too stubborn to admit it, even Abigail couldn't understand), since he had been in Middleton.

"And this box put Cassie in a coma?"

Again, Abigail nodded and wasn't surprised by the look on Sam's face.

"The box is cursed."

"Cursed?"

Of course it was. It couldn't be that Cassie had a medical condition; a medical condition that could be treated and cured by nurses and doctors, and Western medicine.

No, of course not, that would be far too commonplace and, dare he say, boring for someone like Cassie Nightingale.

" _Cursed_?"

"Yes, Sam. The Merriwicks and the Davenports aren't like you, or Jake. I have to say, I think you're taking this better than he would."

"Really?" Sam would be lying if he said that this didn't stroke his male ego just a little bit. Cassie had never made him feel like he had to compete with Jake, but Abigail's observation meant more to him than he'd ever let on.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, you are more cynical and stubborn than anyone I thought Cassie could ever be in a relationship with, but you're open-minded too. Look at how things have changed since you moved here. I loved Jake like a brother, but you challenge Cassie in a way I've never seen – you're both better when you're together."

This was high praise from Abigail, and actually shocked and surprised him more than her revelation that the Christmas trinket box was cursed. Of course, Sam was aware that Abigail had tried to sabotage his chances with Stephanie because she believed they weren't right for each other, but he hadn't realised the extent of how strongly she felt about his relationship with Cassie.

"Uh, thank you?"

Abigail brushed this aside. "The curse was created to stop the Merriwicks finding and keeping love. The Davenports eventually sent Patience's real lover off to war to try and keep the two of them apart."

"Okay, so how do we break this curse?" These were words Sam Radford had never expected to leave his mouth.

"Not 'we'. You, Sam."

"Me? Apart from performing some surgeries you might call miraculous, there's nothing magical about me."

"Magic doesn't break the curse. Love does."

"Abigail…"

"I know you love her, Sam."

She knew because she could feel it; was sometimes bowled over by the force of the love between the two of them.

And, she'd never admit it, but deep down that was what she wanted for herself too.

Sam stood up and began to pace. It was the only thing that was stopping him from enacting violence against an innocent piece of furniture, although after what Abigail had just revealed about the trinket box he wasn't sure he would ever trust an antique ever again.

"Why can't it be you, or Grace, or George, or Brandon? You all love her."

"Of course we do," George, who had been very quiet up to this point, chipped in. "But I believe Abigail is referring to a _different_ kind of love."

Sam looked at them both in turn, his mouth open in silent process. They could both see what he was too stubborn and afraid to admit.

He thought he had been prepared to do anything in his power to bring Cassie back, but now that a potential solution had presented itself, why was he so resistant?

He tried to think what Cassie would do in this situation, but he just kept coming up empty.

* * *

Cassie couldn't explain why, but she was reluctant to return to Grey House. The evening was drawing on, and she knew Sam would be wanting to get some sleep soon. Now that she had told him the truth, at least the truth as she understood it, and he had been receptive to it, she didn't want to leave him. He was her only real connection with her actual life, and she didn't want to give that up.

Not quite yet.

"Would you like another glass of wine?" Sam asked.

At this rate, he would need to walk to work in the morning rather than drive, but he sensed that Cassie had more to say. It was hardly a chore to spend more of his evening with this beautiful, engaging, dynamic woman who in some alternate dimension was apparently dating him.

Oh yeah, he definitely needed another glass of wine.

Cassie was grateful for the excuse to stay a little longer. Perhaps because of her experience in Blairsville, she was feeling closer to him than ever. Or maybe she was starting to finally feel closer to getting home again. She couldn't wait for that, but there was a tinge of regret at leaving _this_ Sam behind. He reminded her of the man who had arrived in Middleton with his teenage son, rather than the man she was now dating.

There was a familiarity about it all, while her relationship with _her_ Sam was new and changing with each passing day – something which delighted and terrified Cassie in equal measure. She was just a little concerned about Sam when she left here, if _here_ even really existed.

Maybe he was just here to guide her home, she pondered but dismissed it. What had happened to her might be beyond her explanation, but it wasn't _It's a Wonderful Life_ either.

Cassie felt a sudden sharp pang of longing. She missed Grace almost more than she could bear, although she trusted her resourceful, intelligent daughter wouldn't be _too_ worried. If she was back home in her Middleton, she and Grace would be starting all of their holiday traditions. She wondered idly about the Bell, Book, and Candle, missing her shop and the Christmas rush. She loved helping people find the perfect gift for a loved one, but that pleasure increased tenfold at Christmas. That was why she had been so excited by her finds at the estate sale, which was ironic now she thought about it.

She realised that Sam had been watching her for some time, holding out her re-filled wine glass and waiting for her to take it.

"Penny for them?" he asked, lowering his voice which seemed to make it rougher and smoother all at once. Cassie shivered.

"Thinking about home," she sighed.

"They must miss you."

It was a statement and not a question. Sam already knew that she had touched his life and they had known each other mere days.

Well, that wasn't strictly true now, was it?

"I know I miss them," She leaned against the kitchen cabinets, resting her wine glass on the workstation beside her.

He had stepped into her personal space before either of them truly realised. It wasn't so much that he clouded Cassie's abilities, just that she had gradually accustomed herself to letting down her guard around _her_ Sam and the same thing seemed to apply to _this_ Sam.

"You and your…Sam," He felt ridiculous saying it; ridiculous for not only believing what Cassie had told him but for going along with it too. He should probably had his medical licence in for this, but he trusted that she was telling the truth. She didn't present like any of the mental patients he had treated as part of his tenure working in the ER, and apart from the occasion where she'd sported a spiderweb hanging from the elbow of her sweater, she always looked calm, competent and in control.

Yeah, Sam thought, if I was ever going to fall in love again, it would be with someone like her.

"Yes,"

"Cassie, I don't even know what I'm asking,"

She smiled, wishing she wasn't so drawn to him but knowing that it was also inevitable.

"The fact that you haven't had me committed says a lot, Sam."

"Do you love him?" He burst out, almost before Cassie had finished speaking.

"I…" Yes, she did. Of course she did. But admitting it to herself and telling a carbon copy of the man were two very different things.

A smile danced in his eyes.

"If he isn't in love with you then he's…I am an idiot."

"We haven't…"

As practiced an observer and reader of human behaviour as Cassie was, Sam read more into her aborted sentence than she could have expected.

"Once you get back to him, you'll have all the time in the world."

"If,"

He shook his head. "No. _When_. If he's really me, then he's out there right now, moving heaven and earth, and raising hell, to bring you back to him."

Cassie felt her eyes fill with tears. "Sam,"

He placed his hand on her forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Now, do you love him?"

A tear slipped out and slid down her cheek, Sam caught it with the brush of his thumb.

" _Of course I love him_."


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Here is the last chapter of A Christmas Curse. Thank you for coming along for the ride on this one. It's definitely different to anything I've ever written. The content of this chapter is still definitely T rated, but Sam does drop a language bomb later on - he and I were both equally frustrated with the story at that point!
> 
> Wishing you all a safe & healthy 2021, and thank you to everyone who has commented/favourited this story. It means so much <3

**Part 6**

Sam savagely kicked a lump of gravel at the back wall of Grey House, and decided his tantrum had gone on long enough. He had barely eaten or slept since he had found Cassie prostrate and unconscious in the storeroom of the Bell, Book, and Candle – working every hour to find a way, however ridiculous, to bring her back to him. All the while he had been resisting and refusing to accept his true feelings for her.

Now, a potential solution had presented itself and he was, he'd be the first to admit, acting like a fool.

Because he loved her.

Didn't he?

A part of him had fallen for her the very first day he had arrived in Middleton, even if she had driven him crazy to begin with.

She still drove him crazy now, but he liked that kind of insanity a lot better.

God, he missed her.

Less than delighted about having to face Abigail again, especially if she gave him a smug, 'I told you so' kind of look, Sam dragged himself back into Grey House.

"Done sulking?" Abigail asked, but her smile was at least forty percent sympathetic, so Sam didn't feel the need to wipe said smile from her face. And, to be fair, _he_ had been the one who had stormed off.

He reached for his jacket. "I'm going to the hospital. Tell Grace where I've gone."

He looked back at Abigail and George for a moment. He should offer to take them with him, they were her family after all, but he knew that this was a journey, and a conversation, that he needed to have alone with her.

The thought of finally seeing Cassie again and getting to interact with her, had Sam nearly dropping his keys into the slushy melted snow. It gave him a moment to gather himself, and he was calmer when slid the key smoothly into the ignition on the first try. It wouldn't do either of them again good if he crashed his SUV into a tree on his way to the hospital.

He reached for his seatbelt, yanking on it when it didn't fit round him in the way it usually did. He tugged at his jacket, trying to straighten it when he realised there was something bulky in the right pocket.

It was that _damn_ trinket box.

Sam hated the sight of the thing, and would have like nothing better than to pitch it out of the car window the moment he reached the freeway. Better still, he and Cassie could throw into the roaring fireplace at Grey House and watch it burn away to ashes before he promised her that he would never, _ever_ let her get away from him again. To hell with whether it was a priceless artefact.

Yes, that sounded like a much better plan.

The drive to the hospital seemed endless, but then all too soon he found himself crossing the frosty parking lot to the main entrance. He still didn't know exactly what he was going to say to her. And he _still_ didn't like this…this pressure to suddenly blurt out how he felt about her.

Something felt wrong about telling her like this. He didn't believe in fairy tales, hell, he wasn't even sure he believed in curses, but he wished there was another way rather than being forced to try and awaken her Sleeping Beauty-style.

Resigned to doing whatever was necessary to bring her back, Sam walked purposefully towards the room that he had unfortunately started to think of as Cassie's. He stopped dead in his tracks, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the polished linoleum.

Cassie's room was empty.

Oh God, he thought, was he too late?

No, surely not.

He might not be a Merriwick, but surely he would have known; would have _felt_ it if Cassie had slipped away?

Where the hell _was_ she?

Summoning every last shred of the Doctor Samuel Radford who had dominated the frenetic emergency room of a New York city hospital, he clenched his fists and turned on his heel. All he could see was red, and was about ready to turn the place upside down when, through the haze, he saw Doctor Bell approaching.

"Sam, hi, we've been trying to reach you," her voice was lowered in concern.

"How…what…"

Use your words, Radford.

"Cassie. She's out of her coma," she placed a hand on Sam's arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. "She's still unconscious…but this is good news."

Sam knew he must be acting more like a worried relative than a decorated doctor, because that was exactly how Doctor Bell was talking to him.

Oh, he definitely hated this even more than the thought of actually being a patient himself.

"Where is she?"

She smiled fondly, she didn't know Sam all that well, but she could recognise a man in love when she saw one.

"Follow me."

Cassie had been moved to a ward now, and the background hubbub of everyday hospital noise calmed him. It was like white noise to Sam after all these years. He noticed there was more colour in Cassie's cheeks now, and her complexion was no longer competing with the bedsheets to see who was paler.

"I'll give you a few minutes," Doctor Bell said softly.

If Sam had been paying attention to anything other than Cassie, he'd have seen the subtle wink she gave him.

Sam sat down heavily in the chair bedside the bed, expelling the air in his lungs in a savage huff. He was still putting this off, wasn't he? He reached into his jacket, taking out that _goddamn_ box and gripping it with both hands.

"Cassie," he almost choked just trying to say her name and looked longingly at the pitcher of water on the stand by the bed. "Cassie, I…"

Come on, Radford. You can do this.

"I've missed you, God, so much these last few days. I don't want to spend another day of my life without you in it, Cassie. You've made me believe in…in so many things that…"

Okay, so now he was rambling.

He had hoped that if he kept talking, those three little words would just…pop out. Maybe he shouldn't be saying them if it was so difficult? Shouldn't the words just come out naturally?

But he felt it.

Looking at her, peaceful against the hospital bed linen, he was almost overwhelmed by it.

Come _on_ , Radford.

"Cassie, I love you."

And…nothing.

He wasn't exactly sure what he had expected to happen. He was a man of science, and medicine, of logic and reason, still part of him had been hoping this would work – that actually telling her how he felt would break this curse. But what if he had been right in the beginning – that the reason for Cassie's current unconscious state was not magic at all but a quantifiable, curable medical condition?

The overheated hospital was starting to make his hands sweat, loosening his hold on the trinket box so he had to wrestle not to drop it.

Finally, sick beyond measure of the whole situation, Sam stood up with so much force that he nearly knocked the chair over. He steadied it with an impatient hand. He couldn't even look at Cassie's inert form.

He stormed out of the hospital, his footsteps only just slower than a full-out run. He felt as if he wouldn't be able to breathe until he was outside, inhaling some of that crisp winter air.

* * *

It was snowing when he emerged from the hospital, flakes swirling in the breeze and settling on his shoulders, and in his hair. It was really the perfect early December day, and there was certainly a hint of Christmas in the air.

But that was very last thing on Sam Radford's mind.

He stalked to the far end of the parking lot, until he reached an area that was empty of cars, but even the physical exercise in the biting wind was not helping to cool his temper.

"Fucking piece of _shit!_ " he screamed at the wind, heaving the trinket box above his head and propelling with so much force at the frozen asphalt that it simply splintered.

Sam coughed heartily, his eyes filling with tears as a white powder exploded from the box, seeming to hang in the air before it dissipated.

What on _Earth?_

Sam ground what remained of the box into pieces, some not much more than sawdust, with the sole of his boots. Perhaps it would have been more satisfying to have pitched it into the roaring fire at Grey House, but Sam was still feeling pretty pleased with himself that the box was now destroyed. He just hoped that none of the hospital faculty members had seen his performance, he didn't relish the idea of trying to explain _that_.

He was still staring down at the remains of the Christmas box, when his cell phone began to vibrate from inside his jacket. Swearing as he tried to remember which pocket he'd put it in and then fighting with zipper, Sam finally answered the call.

"She's _what?"_

There was no other word for it, Sam sprinted across the parking lot towards the hospital again. Only one thought was taking residence in his brain:

Cassie.

She was awake.

* * *

The last thing Cassie Nightingale remembered was being held tightly in the arms of the man that she loved. No, that wasn't quite right. It was hazy now, but that man hadn't been _her_ Sam.

She blinked, it was like trying to remember a dream – the harder you tried to hold onto it, the faster it seemed to slip away.

As her vision cleared, her senses filled.

With him.

He overrode everything else, the sounds and smells of the hospital, the feeling of the breathing tube in her nose, and the scratchy fabric of the gown she was wearing.

All she could focus on was him.

She was still too weak to sit up in bed, but it didn't stop her trying to push herself upright against the pillows, even though it took what little strength she had.

Sam. He was coming.

"Cassie," he gasped breathlessly, having run from the parking lot to her bedside without slowing his pace.

He sank into the chair beside the bed, desperately drawing air into his lungs. He had a moment to be grateful that at least he was in the hospital, so if he passed out at least they could find him a bed next to Cassie.

He reached for her hands, taking both of hers inside both of his. The seemed to pale and fragile in his grasp, but he felt her squeeze back as hard as she could.

"Oh, Sam," she croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Here, let me," he reached for the pitcher of water on the bedside stand, pouring some into the plastic cup. He gently placed the plastic straw into Cassie's mouth, holding it for her as she sipped.

"I missed you so much," he stroked his thumb along her cheekbone, just needing to touch her, to reaffirm that she was really, truly back with him.

Cassie smiled, but her forehead was puckered with the beginnings of a frown.

"I missed you, too," she placed her hand over his, wrapping her fingers tightly around it.

Sam had never been able to figure out that smile, and he supposed he never would.

It was all part of her mysterious charm.

"What happened?"

Sam groaned. "It's a really long story, are you sure you want to hear it?"

"I love long stories, especially when they have happy endings," she smiled, and Sam wondered how it was possible for a woman who had been in the coma that morning, and had only recently regained consciousness, to look so radiant. "But first, I think you'd better call Grace and Abigail."

"Of course," Sam shot up from his chair, cell phone clutched in his hand. He had been so focused on Cassie that he hadn't had the capacity to think of anything, or anyone else. "I will be right back. Please don't faint on me Cassie, I can't go through that again."

His tone was light, but Cassie could see the strain around his eyes and the dark circles beneath them. This had to have been so tough on him. The other Sam had been right, he _had_ done everything in his power to bring her home.

She wondered what that had cost him.

"They knew. They both already knew," Sam was still shaking his head at the wonder of those damn Merriwicks when he returned to Cassie's bedside.

"Of course they did," she smiled that smile again. Sam could never decide if he found it charming or irritating, he supposed it depended on his frame of mind at the time. "When you have a connection, you can't help but know."

Sam digested that for a second, leaning back in the plastic chair.

"I didn't. I didn't even know that you'd come out of the coma until I got here," he stared hard at the scratched linoleum tile, rubbing at it with the toe of his leather boot.

It was feeling less and less likely that he had broken some kind of curse to bring Cassie back. He should be relieved about that really, since he had never really believed in that nonsense. He would have stayed a firm non-believer in many things if it hadn't been for Cassie.

When he looked up, Cassie was smiling fondly at him, teardrops glistening on her dark eyelashes.

"Sam, it was you who brought me home. I would still be lost if it wasn't for you."

"I don't understand…"

She brought his hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to them.

"Now, you promised me a story," she had blinked away her tears now, and her dark eyes shone with warmth instead. "I'd like to hear it, and then I would like you to take me home."

* * *

Despite his attempt to pull rank, which might mean he had to rebuild some bridges when he was next scheduled to work at Hillcrest, Sam wasn't able to secure Cassie's release from the hospital until the following day.

It did give him time to organise one last thing for her though, and this time he was able to involve all of her family and friends.

As Sam hung the last frosted glass icicle in the window of the Bell, Book, and Candle, he realised that he couldn't imagine not being part of this tight-knit, small town community. The years he had lived anonymously in his apartment building in New York seemed a lifetime ago. It made him happy to realise how much the town loved Cassie, with even Martha giving up her Saturday morning to help decorate the shop.

Sam may have been tempted to tell her exactly where she could stick the festive pine cone arrangement, but he appreciated her participation all the same. He was sure Cassie would too, and she would definitely find out about it, because of course Martha would tell her.

God, he loved the whole damn lot of them.

Even Abigail, who had been especially smug ever since Sam had returned from the hospital.

He knew though, that in her own unique way, Abigail had been trying to help him. He hoped that buying half of the stock from her flower shop would go some way to showing his appreciation.

He had one of the smaller arrangements stowed carefully in the passenger-side footwell of his car when he drove to the hospital to pick her up. He had lost track of the times he had made this journey in the last week, but this was the first time he felt truly hopeful.

He even had the radio tuned to a station exclusively playing Christmas songs, and if he happened to hum along with a couple of them, well, no one else needed to know.

Sam Radford had diagnosed himself with a case of the Christmas spirit.

Nearly losing the love of your life and then being reunited with her could do that to a man.

He couldn't wait to bring her home.

He should probably also give some thought to how he kept referring to Grey House as _home_ , but that was a concern for another day.

* * *

Cassie was waiting for him when arrived in the waiting room, and he had to jam his hands into his jacket pockets to stop from forcibly grabbing her and pulling her into his arms. She was physically healthy and had been given a clean bill of health, but being in a coma had left her weak and not firing on all of her usual cylinders.

Sam's bedside manner was going to come in handy for once. Cassie was always so busy looking after everyone else, it was about time someone took care of her. Sam was more than ready to take on that role.

They stood looking at each other across the waiting room, the hospital buzzing with life around him but they only had eyes for each other.

Yet Sam felt…awkward.

Although he had finally realised and accepted his true feelings for her, he had yet to say those three words to her in person.

"Hey," he brushed his lips against her cheek, feeling her hand cup and squeeze his elbow.

"Hey," she replied, matching her tone to his. She could feel that he was uncomfortable, but it frustrated her to not know the reason why.

So they hugged, awkwardly, and Sam helped her out to his waiting car. She hooked her hand through his elbow, still a little unsteady on her feet as they made their way across the frozen parking lot.

In his haste to get to Cassie, Sam had forgotten about the floral arrangement he had brought along for her. He had meant to take it into the hospital and hand it to her, but it had slipped his mind.

It might have made their reunion less awkward if he'd had something to do with his hands.

"Oh, sorry," he apologised when Cassie hesitated. He took out the arrangement and handed it to her. "I had Abigail make it up for you."

"It's beautiful," she replied softly, tears starting to shine in her eyes. "And it has mistletoe in it."

They shared a smile and, just like that, the ice had broken between them all over again.

* * *

On the drive back to Middleton, Cassie wanted Sam to fill her in on everything she had missed while she had been away. She had to remember to keep referring to it as "her coma" or "when she was unconscious" because she wasn't sure Sam was quite ready for the truth.

Although, as she had learned more than once, and from more than one source, Sam could be surprisingly open-minded when the mood took him.

Sam was in the middle of telling Cassie, much to her amusement, the story of how it was actually Martha who had initially alerted him to the fact that something was wrong, when she became aware that they were taking a different route home.

"Sam, you just missed the…"

He smiled across at her, taking his hand off the wheel long enough to give her knee a brief, warm squeeze. He drove slowly down Main Street, trying to keep his eyes on the road but also watch Cassie's reaction as they drove past the decorated store fronts. Abigail's Flower Market and The Bistro were dripping in lights, garlands of flowers and illuminated Christmas trees.

He slowed to a crawl as they approached the Bell, Book, and Candle, pulling over to let the cars behind pass. He really wanted to focus on watching Cassie's reaction to this part of their unofficial Middleton Christmas light tour.

"Oh Sam, it's beautiful," she almost choked on a sob, wiping away a tear with her knuckle. "Thank you."

"It's not me you have to thank, well, not just me," he checked that the road was clear and opened his door, coming round to the passenger side of the car to help Cassie down onto the slushy sidewalk. "We could see that you had started decorating the shop for Christmas when you…when you passed out. Don't worry, we didn't use any of the decorations you picked up at that estate sale. You and I can go through those together when Christmas is over."

That was if Sam didn't decide to just burn the whole lot. The sawdust remains of the Christmas trinket box were still scattered in the parking lot at Hillcrest, probably covered in a thick layer of snow and ice by now.

The Bell, Book, and Candle was perhaps not as tastefully decorated as it might have been had Cassie be around to do it herself, but it was all the more beautiful to her knowing that her friends, and family, and Sam had all pitched in to help.

Helping her across the glittering, icy sidewalk, Sam pushed open the door to her shop and they stepped inside. Cassie promised herself she wouldn't cry, but when Grace came bounding across the shop floor to hug her, the dam broke. Everyone she loved was there, her family: Grace, and Abigail, and George, Brandon and Tara, her friends: Stephanie, Martha and Tom, Derek, and, of course Sam.

Still tangled in Grace's embrace, she looked across as where Sam was talking to George in a low voice. He seemed to sense it, and turned to look back at her, their eyes locking over Grace's head. What she saw in his eyes overwhelmed her, and was too strong and too potent for her to even put a name to.

She wondered if she would ever truly understand what it had taken for him to bring her back.

"So, I hear you were actually cursed," she wasn't sure if it was her imagination but it sounded like Abigail might be jealous.

Cassie smile was warm. Abigail usually enjoyed taking the full credit for her actions, and other people's if she could, but she was playing it extremely coy here, which intrigued Cassie.

"It seems that way," she agreed. "Oh, I met one of the Davenports."

Abigail's eyebrows rose, gesturing for Cassie to continue.

"Oh, which one?"

Her exaggerated look of nonchalance would not have fooled anyone, but particularly not her cousin.

"Donovan. He was quite charming actually, mid-thirties, immaculately dressed, and has quite the collection of antiques."

Abigail's considering look changed to one of disgust.

"As much as I love your store Cassie, I'm kind of done with antiques for the time being."

Cassie laughed at this, she couldn't really blame her. She imagined Sam was having some similar, if not stronger, feelings. But looking around her shop, seeing the faces of friends and clients who she had helped, she knew that, the Christmas trinket box notwithstanding, she would never change her mind about the products she sold here.

Abigail placed her hand on Cassie's shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. She wasn't one of displays of affections, especially physical touching, but Cassie could feel how affected her cousin had been by her disappearance.

"Grace and I can handle the clear up here, why don't you ask Sam to take you home?"

Home.

That sounded perfect right now.

And this Grey House would be a lot more homely and welcoming than the one she had left behind.

"Ready to go?"

Sam had managed to get the drop on _her_ for once, slipping up behind her with her coat already in his hands.

"Yes," she smiled, trying to fight back a yawn. It had been a wonderful celebration, but she was still exhausted and a little shaky from her ordeal. "That would be lovely."

She let him lead her to the car, rubbing her hands together once he started the engine and the heater cut in. Finally feeling relaxed, and safe in Sam's presence, she felt her head start to loll against the window.

* * *

By the time they arrived back at Grey House, Cassie was already dozing.

With a fond smile on his face, Sam came around to her side of the car and unfastened her seatbelt, draping her arm around his neck as he lifted her down. He carried up to the house, pausing to push the front door open with his shoulder. The motion awakened her, but it took a moment for her eyes to focus, then her mouth relaxed into a contented smile.

She was finally home.

In more ways than one.

"Sam," she began gently as he set her down on her feet.

Grey House had been decorated too, she could see the lights twisting up the banister and a glimpse of the Christmas tree in the sitting room.

"I know what you had to do to bring me back, and I appreciate it," he opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. "But I don't expect anything."

"Cassie," he objected, but she had always been able to read him like a damn book. Or so he thought, anyway.

"It wasn't what I wanted to do, it wasn't how I wanted to…" he broke off, scrubbing his hand across his face.

Why was he still making this so damned complicated?

"Come with me," she followed him into the sitting room, and watched while he started the fire that was already laying there. If she saw the irony in the metaphor, she didn't mention it.

The lights were off in the sitting room, so the space was only illuminated by the Christmas tree, and now the glow of the open fire.

He took her hands, warming her cold fingers in his. He knew that was tired, and the medical part of his brain should have insisted she was in bed hours ago, but he needed just a bit longer with her.

He needed to make her understand.

He walked her deeper into the room, close to the Christmas tree and its twinkling white lights.

This was the kind of moment he had been waiting for. This was why he had protested, and yes, sulked, when he had been forced to reveal his true feelings for Cassie in such a cold, clinical way.

And he was a doctor, damn it.

This was what he had been waiting for.

She was what he had been waiting for, and he hadn't even known it.

Cassie was smiling shyly up at him, the Christmas lights reflecting in the depths of her dark eyes.

Sam was momentarily overpowered by his feelings for her, but he wouldn't let them go unsaid any longer.

To hell with the consequences.

It was Christmas after all.

He had thought it was a little cheesy, and a hell of a lot corny, when Abigail had insisted on hanging the sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling, just by the tree. But she was the florist, and he was still occasionally a little intimidated by her, so he had acquiesced to her superior knowledge.

Now he saw that, infuriatingly, and just like her cousin, Abigail had been right.

"Cassie, when I thought I had lost you, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stop thinking about all the time we wasted, and how I'd been holding back from fully committing to you. To us. Being without you, it made me realise that I don't ever want to lose you."

Quit rambling, Radford.

"Cassie, I love you. I meant it when I said it at the hospital, and I mean it now."

"Sam, I love you, too. It was the love, the bond that we share, that brought me back to you. I knew you were fighting for me, for us, every second."

He cocked his head to the side, giving her that almost-innocent puppy-eyed grin he sometimes favoured. The one that could melt the frosty sidewalks, let alone her heart.

She smiled, her eyes darting upwards.

"Now, I might not be the reigning horticultural expert in this family, but I believe that means you should kiss me."

He grinned back, lowering his head so his lips met hers.

He had a feeling, a very good feeling, that this was truly going to be a magical Christmas.


End file.
